


You're Standing on My Neck

by xlessxthanx3x



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 90s, Alternate Universe - High School, Best friend's brother, Gen, Gob is Trent, Lindsay is Jane, M/M, Oh also, Some differences from canon of both shows lolol, The Wunderlich family is basically the same as in Take on Me and piano fic, This is loosely based off Daria like fairly loose because lbr, Tony is Daria, Tony's not smart enough to be Daria but like..., sing us a song you're the piano gob, trigger warning for mentions of eating disorders and suicide/mental illness, yes this is the most me a fic can get: daria references & piano gob & high school era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2020-03-08 09:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 107,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xlessxthanx3x/pseuds/xlessxthanx3x
Summary: When the Wunderlich family moves from New York to Newport Beach, Tony's sure his outcast status will only grow. But when he meets Lindsay Bluth, a former cheerleader suffering from a fall from grace, they form a friendship both of them needed and didn't expect.And it's kind of cool that her older brother, Gob, happens to be really,reallyhot.An AU very loosely based off ofDaria.





	1. It Makes Me Feel Special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I could pass the test, but I like having low self-esteem. It makes me feel special."  
> -Jane Lane, "Esteemers" (1x01)

Tony sat in the backseat of his sister, Chiara’s, car, his arms crossed. Despite how sunny it was outside, Tony was feeling rather gloomy. In fact, the sun was actually part of the reason why he was gloomy. He hated the feeling of sun when it hit his skin, honestly. It was why living in New York City had been perfect; while it got sunny, it wasn’t as constant or as powerful as it was in Newport Beach.

Because, yeah, he was in fucking _southern California_ now. In a _suburb_ . And, okay, maybe, yes, he lived in Long Island and not the _city_ -city in New York, but it counted, okay? At least he could wear all black during fall without having to worry about dying from over-heating or whatever.

His family had made the move only about a week ago and he was about to finally start at his new high school. Both him and his older sister, Angie, were, that is. And whereas Angie was excited to start her senior year, Tony was dreading it. He didn’t fit in when he lived in New York, and at least people there were diverse. Or, at the very least, Jewish. Tony hadn’t seen much of Newport Beach yet, but he knew the demographics and he knew that it was loaded with WASPs. At least in New York he could blend into the crowd to avoid getting picked on for reading Poe or wearing black or being a bit smaller than the jocks and stuff. But in Orange County? Yeah, he was gonna stick out like a sore fucking thumb.

“I know starting at a new school is scary,” Chiara said from the driver’s seat. “And I know it’s different from New York, but I’m sure you guys will like it here. I wish I got to go to school in California. It’s like _Saved by the Bell_ ; how cool is that?” That was Chiara for you, always trying to be positive.

Then, the other part of Chiara’s personality came out: her mothering-ness. “But, of course, it might take the kids a little while to get used to you. I don’t think many new kids come through this town.” Tony held back a snort at that; it was just another way he was going to be noticed. And, yes, Tony _loved_ the spotlight, but he liked it when he got to control it, not when he was forced to stand out as the New Kid. “So, don’t be surprised if they don’t accept you right away; they will soon enough. Just give them a chance and I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

Even if her eyes hadn’t darted to Tony in the rearview mirror, Tony would’ve known the speech was meant just for him. No one had to worry about Angie not fitting in; Angie was perky, blonde (with the help of a lot of bleach), pretty, and, frankly, easy. And Tony said that out of love, since Angie was definitely his favorite of his siblings. But, still, he was honestly already annoyed that he had to deal with being in a new school, so he really didn’t want to deal with his oldest sister lecturing him on giving the kids a chance.

“I’ll try to help Angie through this difficult transition, Kiki,” Tony said as she pulled up to the curb of the Balboa High.

Thankfully, like usual, the nickname made Chiara frown and she stopped talking. “Bye, Lite-Brite!” Angie said cheerfully as she got out of the car. Tony stepped out a beat later, only to find guys obviously leering at his sister already and a few girls giving her approving looks.

Tony rolled his eyes yet again as Angie gave a flirty look back to one of the guys. “What do you think of him?” Angie asked her brother under her breath. “He’s cute, right?”

“You know I like tall guys,” Tony muttered back.

Oh, yeah, Tony was bi, which was just another thing he didn’t feel like sharing with his new classmates. It had been a mess having to tell his family—well, besides Angie. She had been supportive from the get-go and it ended up bringing them closer together.

“He’s totally _my_ type, though, right?”

“He’s breathing, isn’t he?” Tony responded dryly.

Angie glared at him before leading the way into the school building.

* * *

Much like Tony had assumed, everyone already had their own cliques. Also much like he had predicted, Angie managed to find her way into one of them right away. Maybe even multiple ones. He spotted her throughout the day talking to cheerleaders, some girls he just  _knew_ had to be popular, and lots of guys in letterman jackets. While Angie had promised him they could have lunch together, she was surrounded by a whole bunch of new friends that he didn’t want to meet. They were probably a whole bunch of shallow, popular kids who wouldn’t want to associate with him.

He had no idea why Angie dealt with that, honestly. She was so smart and funny and actually _interesting_ , so he had no idea why so many of her friends turned out to be dumb, shallow, and _boring_.

Some would possibly say Tony was just jealous or bitter or something, but, well, whatever. He preferred eating lunch by himself with a book instead.

As part of the small group of new kids at school, Angie and Tony were given an official tour and met with a guidance counselor during study hall. At first, Tony assumed they were going to talk about classes or his goals or colleges or something, and he was prepared to tell the counselor how he was only going to apply to colleges in New York City and how he was willing to take extra classes over the summer to graduate early if possible. But, nope, he realized soon enough she was trying to do some psych evaluation of him.

They were easy to spot when you were given enough of them, and Tony had been screened a _lot_. Lots of people assumed he was depressed because he wore all black and he sat by himself and all of that, so that was part of it. But the real reason he had been given psych evaluations a lot was because his older brother, Daniel, tried to kill himself when he was in high school.

Daniel was doing a lot better, even if he was still living with the whole family nearly a decade later. But, with the family history of bipolar disorder, Tony had been poked and prodded by psychologists and psychiatrists and counselors of all kinds as a precaution in the near decade since his brother’s suicide attempt. It was honestly just _annoying_ at that point. Didn’t they have notes on how he was perfectly sane on his file?

Tony slouched in his chair and crossed his arms as the counselor held up a picture of a boy and a girl talking, their bodies in silhouette, and asked what he saw. “I don’t know…a herd of beautiful wild ponies running free across the plain?”

“…No, it’s a picture of two people talking.”

“Last time I took one of these, they said it could be anything I wanted,” Tony said, hoping the pointed response would help her realize he had been through this stuff before.

“That’s a different kind of test. In this test, they’re people, and you tell me what they’re discussing, Antonio.”

“ _Tony._ ”

“I’m sorry… _Tony_ ,” she said. “Now, what are they discussing?” She looked at him expectantly.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay…it’s a guy and a girl and they’re discussing…” he smirked and said, “A herd of beautiful wild ponies running free across the plain.”

She didn’t seem to find it nearly as funny as he did.

* * *

“So, they _immediately_ let me join the cheerleading squad,” Angie said excitedly during the Wunderlich family dinner. “And I _might_ join the fashion club later, I don’t know if I want to yet. But they said I’m welcome to join whenever I want.”

“That’s wonderful, Angie,” their mom, Giulia, said. “I knew you’d fit in right away!”

“Yeah,” Angie said with a broad grin. She had told Tony on their walk home that she already had been asked out on three dates, but she knew better than to bring that up already in front of their parents, especially their dad.

“And all those activities will look great on your college applications,” their mom continued. Their dad, Dan, nodded in agreement.

“Of course,” Angie said, holding back a sigh. She wanted to do beauty school, not college, but their parents wouldn’t listen to her on that subject.

“Well, what about you, Tonio?” Giulia said, turning to him. “How was your first day?”

“Okay,” Tony replied with a shrug.

“Just okay?”

He shrugged again. “It was fine.”

“Did you make any friends?” His mom asked hopefully.

Daniel snorted. “It’s Tony, mom; come on.”

Tony glared at his brother. “Did someone miss a dose of their meds?”

“Nope. I’m just being honest,” Daniel said, even as both their mom and Chiara scowled at him.

“Be nice,” Chiara said. “It’s difficult to make new friends in a new place, especially with someone as… _shy_ as Tony.”

“Tony’s not shy; he’s a little bitch,” Daniel said. Their mom hit him on the head and scolded him for swearing and insulting his younger brother.

Tony was used to it, though. And, hey, Daniel was right. Yeah, most of the reason why he was so isolated in school was that he was weird, but it didn’t help that he was less than enthusiastic to even _try_ to make friends. He just didn’t enjoy things most people did, so he didn’t see the point.

By that he meant he didn’t enjoy most things. He kinda hated most things.

Thankfully, at least, the commotion got the attention off of him for a moment. By the time his mom looked back at him, looking worried that he had a horrible day, Tony sighed internally, forced on a smile, and said, “It was fine. _Really.”_ He didn’t want to make her worried about nothing.

But, apparently, the school was going to make her do that anyways.

After the twins told them all about their first day—well, _Pip_ told them all about it (including several stories about this weird kid in their grade who was really pale and kept asking for his mother even though they were in fourth grade), while her twin, Michael, just nodded in agreement, like usual—Lizzie launched into how great her first day had been. She was just talking about being placed in some advanced classes in her eighth grade class when the phone rang.

Their mom answered the phone, Tony not really paying it any mind. It was hard to focus on anything when Lizzie kept going on about her day. She was such a freaking _loudmouth._

Finally, Giulia sat back down and, obviously not really listening to Lizzie, she said, “That’s great, Lizzie.” She turned her eyes to Tony and Angie and said, “You two took a test today?”

“Just one of those psych ones,” Angie said with a shrug. “We had to, like, make up a conversation between a guy and a girl. _So_ dumb. I made mine rant about how uncreative dates are these days.”

“I see…”

Angie asked, “Why’d you ask? They said they weren't graded or anything.”

Their mom looked to Tony and delicately said, “Tony, they want you to take a special class for a few weeks after school—”

“Tonio? Why? Do they think he’s crazy?” Angie asked. “Is it just because he’s bi?” She turned to her brother, “Did you tell them that?”

“No!” Tony said firmly. He was confused as to why he was being forced into some class as well. “And it’s not like it’s the fifties anymore, Ange! They won’t call me crazy for that!”

“Hey, we prefer mentally ill, dude,” Daniel said with a laugh. “Get used to correcting people on that.”

“No, they don’t think he’s _mentally ill,”_ Giulia said tightly. She looked at her husband and spoke as if only he could hear her, “…They say he has low self-esteem.”

“What?” Dan asked incredulously.

“What does that mean?” Pip asked.

“It means he doesn’t believe in himself and thinks he’s a loser,” Lizzie told her. “So, I mean, he’s right, but it still sucks.”

 _“Elisabetta Maria!”_ Chiara and Dan scolded at the same time.

“No wonder our poor baby has low self-esteem!” Giulia said dramatically.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Tony said under his breath. In a louder voice, he tried to tell them, “I _don’t_ have low self-esteem.”

Of course, being in the exact middle of a big family meant he was used to getting ignored. Pip was loudly asking why Tony had low self-esteem and if it was contagious while their father tried to answer her questions, even though she was barely pausing for breaths. Lizzie was arguing with Chiara about how she was just teasing and everyone teased _her_ , so why couldn’t she do it back, while Chiara tried to explain that it wasn’t the right time to do so. Giulia was insisting they always tried to call him special and he just didn’t _listen_ while Daniel backed her up by asking what was wrong with him. Angie was trying to calm their mom down, meaning she was also yelling at Daniel to shut up. The only people who weren’t talking were Tony and Mike, but seeing as his little brother barely said a word, especially when his twin sister was around to do the talking for him, that wasn’t that unusual. Tony sighed and looked at his little brother. Mike looked back and shrugged before going back to eating.

Finally, tired of being talked about by everyone, Tony stood up and started to put his empty plate in the dishwasher. “Great!” Angie said, glaring at Daniel. “Now he’s going to brood! Are you happy now?”

“When does Tony _not_ brood?” Daniel shot back.

“Stop making fun of him!” Giulia exclaimed with worry.

Tony groaned loudly and started to leave, but Dan managed to shut everyone up as he called for Tony to stay where he was. At first Tony tried to leave anyways, but his mom dangerously called out, _“Antonio Franceso Wunderlich!_ ” Lizzie and Pip both made a low _ooo_ in response to the full name.

With a sigh, Tony turned back around. “You don’t need to worry about me. There must have been some sort of mistake. I _don’t_ have low self-esteem.”

“Yeah!” Angie said with a defensive tone. “If anything, he has low esteem for everyone else.”

* * *

Despite the obvious mistake the counselor made, Tony was told he had to go to the first meeting of that low self-esteem class that afternoon. He swore the counselor just had something against him; he had no idea _what_. Maybe she just didn’t like ponies.

It left him in a particularly sour mood, which just made him snarkier than usual. Everything seemed to piss him off more. And when some blonde girl bumped into him in the locker bay and kept walking by without any regard to him, he nearly growled. He opened up his locker and shoved his books back into it and grabbed his physics textbook. Tony looked back over to where that girl had gone, spotting her talking to some guy he vaguely recognized as another junior. She was obviously trying to flirt, but the guy looked kinda nervous, maybe not interested.

“The guy’s _clearly_ not interested,” Tony remarked to himself. “And with that outfit, it’s clear _why_.”

There was a snort from behind him and a voice said, “I know, right? Her outfit’s _so_ tacky _._ ”

Tony froze for a moment. He wasn’t used to people actually listening to him, especially when he was just talking to himself. After a minute, he turned around to see another blonde girl, this one with some streaks of blue and pink on her tips. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the blonde girl from earlier. “Sadly, the guy actually _is_ interested—I have no idea _why_ —but he can’t talk around her without sticking his foot in his mouth.” She sighed to herself and shook her head before leaving without another word.

Huh. That was weird.

* * *

Tony hoped the sooner he got to the class, the sooner he could be done with it. He figured it was going to be some sort of one-on-one thing, or maybe just a couple people at most, so it couldn’t take _that_ long, right?

But as a few more students started to trickle in after him, no teacher or counselor in sight, he started to realize that, no, this _was_ going to take a while. He groaned and shifted in the seat he had gotten near the back, but not in the actual back row. He didn’t go all the way to the back, since he knew that would draw more attention to himself, and he didn’t want all these new kids to think he actually _did_ have low self-esteem.

He brought out his notebook and started doodling, not looking back up until he heard the clack of heels on the tile floor. Assuming it was the teacher of the class, he looked up, but, instead, he saw the blonde girl from earlier. The one with streaks in her hair and had actually listened to his remark and commented back, not the rude one. She was wearing a pair of sunglasses, and at first Tony assumed she was pretentious or something, but then he realized she was trying to be incognito. She was obviously failing, something she seemed to realize as she self-consciously crossed her arms. After scanning through the seats, she ended up choosing a spot next to Tony.

She gave him a small nod to acknowledge his existence, but didn't say anything to him. At least not at first. Tony didn’t particularly care or notice, seeing as he was soon trying to follow the teacher’s lecture. _Trying_ being the key word.

“Excuse me, but what does ‘realizing your actuality’ mean?” Tony asked the teacher once the man finally acknowledged he had his hand up.

The teacher looked shocked at being asked something. “Uh…” He looked around and then said, “I think the video will explain that, so just wait for that, okay?” Before Tony could even respond, the teacher started droning on about whatever he had been saying before.

The girl leaned over to whisper, “He doesn’t know what any of this stuff means. Just tune him out.”

“But how am I supposed to pass this dumb test if I don’t know what he means?”

She gave him a thoughtful look. After a moment, she said, “I can fill you in later. I’ve taken this course, like, six times.”

* * *

The girl’s name turned out to be Lindsay Bluth, a last name she said with a hint of pride. When Tony introduced himself, including his own dumb last name, Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “Are you Angela’s brother?”

Tony loved the fact that only he was allowed to call her Angie, by the way. Even his other siblings didn’t get to do that.

“Uh, yeah, she’s my older sister,” he said. “How do you know her?”

“She’s in my art class. I thought she was kinda cool, but then she became a _cheerleader._  Cheerleading is _so_ last year, to be honest; I’m _so_ glad I’m not one anymore.”

“You were a cheerleader?” Tony asked as they walked out of the school building, “What the hell are you doing in this dumb class?”

Lindsay rolled her eyes. “ _Sally Sitwell._ ”

“Who?”

“That girl we were talking about earlier in the locker bay?” Lindsay said. Tony hadn’t realized that really counted as a conversation, but Lindsay went on. “They make the cheerleaders take that test every quarter because they think we all have some eating disorder. The test can be really hard because so many of the answers are long, right? But I finally passed out of it last year. And I was about to become the cheerleading captain. Like, _everyone_ knew it. And I was _so_ psyched last semester on the day they announced it because I _knew_ I was getting it. But then Sally told our coach that she saw me trying to make myself throw up after lunch and I got kicked off the squad until I ‘got better’ and my counselor sent me straight back to this class.” After a moment, she assured Tony, “I’m _not_ some bulimic or something.”

“Right,” Tony said.

“Seriously, I’m _not,”_ she insisted. “Sally’s just jealous and knew the only way she’d get the head cheerleader position would be by doing some something like this. As if her dumb prank actually scares me or something.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s whatever. I’ll take this stupid class again. It’s not like I have anything better to do after school now. And I know all the answers anyways,” Lindsay said. “I’ve actually known them for a while now.”

“Then why did you keep taking the class?”

Lindsay stopped talking for a moment, pausing her walk as well. “…I don’t know. I guess I kinda like the affirmations and stuff,” she said. “We do that a lot throughout the class, like, where people compliment you and then you have to repeat their compliments. It’s nice hearing a bunch of people compliment you and stuff.” She shrugged.

“Oh,” Tony said. Honestly, it sounded like she _did_ have low self-esteem. He almost wanted to say maybe she really needed the class, but, then again, the first day already proved that the teacher had no idea what he was talking about.

“Anyways,” Lindsay continued, “Next week we’re gonna start the role-playing stuff. Then we split up by gender. The girls talk about ‘body image’ or whatever.” She wrinkled her nose, “I’ve heard the guys talk about, like, nocturnal emissions and stuff.”

Tony shuddered. _“God._  I do _not_ want to hear him even _say_ that phrase.”

The two of them started walking again as Lindsay laughed. “Yeah. It pays being a girl for once.” She smiled and then, pulling a set of car keys out of her pocket, she asked, “Need a ride home?”

Tony was about to tell her he was fine since it wasn’t a super long walk, but then she pressed a button and a white Jeep convertible beeped in response. His mouth dropped open; he knew he went to a rich kid’s school, but _damn._

“You drive Cher Horowitz’s car?” Tony asked.

Lindsay smirked, “Cher Horowitz drives _my_ car.” She started walking and gestured for Tony to come with her.

For the first time since he got to that dumb school, he actually gave a genuine smile.

* * *

“So, do you have any other siblings?” Lindsay asked Tony the next day after their self-esteem class. “Or is it just Angela?”

“I have six—four sisters and two brothers.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Lindsay said. “And I thought _I_ had it bad. Are they all older?”

“I’m right in the middle—three older and three younger.”

Lindsay winced. “God, that’s gotta suck.”

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, kinda. I don’t mind them all the time, I just wish I had my own room.”

“You have to _share_?”

“Yep. The girls are divided into twos and I have to share with both my brothers,” Tony said miserably. “You’d think my little brother could be with his twin or something, or that my older brother would’ve moved out by now—not to mention my oldest sister—but, nope.”

Lindsay gave him a solemn look. “That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.”

“My older brother says he used to share a room with Michael in our old apartment back when we were really little. Michael says he doesn’t remember it, but I kinda do. I always remember more stuff from our childhood than him,” Lindsay said. “Oh, yeah, Michael’s my twin—that guy Sally was hitting on?”

“Really? My little brother who’s a twin is _also_ named Michael,” Tony said. “Well, we _call_ him Michael or Mike, but his real name’s Michelangelo.”

“I think that counts as child abuse.”

“Right?” Tony said with a laugh. “We all have Italian names but only our grandparents really use them; everyone else tends to call us by nicknames that are actually okay. I think Angie’s the only one who made it out with something normal.”

“Angie?” Lindsay asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tony laughed a little. “Don’t call her that unless you want her to kill you. Only I get to call her that.” Lindsay nodded and the two continued walking out the school building.

“I never would’ve guessed you and Michael were twins,” Tony said.

Lindsay looked flattered. “ _Thank_ you.”

“You’re welcome. But I meant more, like, my twin siblings are just so _weird_ together. Like, the whole psychic twin connection thing, you know?” Tony said.

Lindsay looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard about that stuff. And I think we kinda have one, but I don’t know. Everyone always thought I was my older brother’s twin, actually, but I think it’s just because I hit my growth spurts ridiculously early…I guess we’re also a bit more alike than Michael and I are. Like, we like to actually have _fun_. And he was popular back in his day, too…I mean, I’m not a cheerleader anymore, but I’m still kinda cool. I guess. Not that it matters.” She shrugged. With a grin, she changed subjects and asked, “So, what’s _your_ weird Italian name?”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Tony said with a groan.

“Come on! It can’t be that bad. Tony’s a nice name; it’s like _West Side Story_. I _love_ that movie.”

Tony had to admit he liked that reference. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “It’s Antonio.”

“See? That’s not so bad,” Lindsay said cheerfully. She unlocked her car with a beep of her keys and asked, “Want a ride home?”

* * *

The next several days went more or less the same. Tony and Lindsay would pass notes throughout their self-esteem class, they’d talk on their way out, and then Lindsay would give him a ride home. Sometimes they’d say a _hi_ in passing to each other in the hallway, Lindsay often asking if Tony had seen whatever horrid outfit Sally had on that day. It was actually kinda nice.

On the third Monday of the semester, Lindsay changed things up a bit.

Tony sat down in what had become his usual corner of the cafeteria and played music on his walkman and pulled out a book. It had become a force of habit as he ate his packed lunch. That was why it took a minute for him to even register that someone had sat in front of him.

He looked up from his book, sure for a moment that either someone had sat there by accident or that Angie had taken pity on him again or something. But, much to his surprise, Lindsay was sitting there.

“Hey, mind if I join you?” Lindsay asked after Tony slipped off his headphones. “Sally’s being _so_ obnoxious.”

“Oh…uh, yeah, sure,” Tony said. He marked the page he was on in his book, since it seemed rude to keep reading when someone was joining him.

“Thanks,” Lindsay said. “Ugh, I don’t get why so many guys are into her. Between her annoying laugh and that _disgusting_ perfume she wears? It’s like she _bathes_ in it or something.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty strong,” Tony agreed.

“Right? I was sure I was gonna, like, throw up or something.”

“And you don’t need her to try to add more fuel to the fire of the whole bulimia rumor.”

“Exactly,” Lindsay said. “See? You’re smart, you get it.”

Tony wanted to add that her getting some small salad from the school cafeteria probably didn’t help those rumors, either, but he refrained.

“I don’t know why I bother sitting with any of them anymore, anyways. Like, I like having people who throw parties know I’m around still, but…I don’t know,” Lindsay said, shaking her head. “They’re always talking about football and cheerleading as if those are the only things that matter. They never have anything interesting to say.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. It’s why I don’t get why Angie hangs out with them.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to have a break from having a brain, I guess,” Lindsay said, shrugging a shoulder. “Your sister seems great, though. One of the few good ones.”

“Thanks. She is.” Tony snorted, “Better than most my family, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah…” Tony planned on leaving it there. But then Lindsay was looking at him, and he couldn’t stop himself from continuing, “My family’s Jewish and Italian. So they’re just so… _overbearing._  My mom’s a _complete_ stereotype, always worrying about everyone—and she wasn't even _born_ Jewish, she just converted for my dad. My oldest sister is basically the same way—she’s nine years older than me, so she’s super protective. My older brother’s just a dick. My younger sister, Lizzie, is just _such_ a know-it-all and skipped a grade and all of that. The twins are basically in their own little world. And my dad…he _tries,_ but I don’t think he realizes what’s going on half the time. Angie’s just…a _lot_ better than that.”

Tony didn’t know why he felt like telling Lindsay all of those things, but it actually felt nice to say it. 

Lindsay nodded. “I can’t imagine being in such a big family. I already feel so lost in mine, sometimes. Like I’m not there. I can’t imagine having six siblings to compete with.”

"Sometimes I'm completely invisible, and sometimes, like when the counselor puts me in a low self-esteem class, I can't get their attention  _off_ of me," Tony said with a roll of his eyes. "My mom's trying to force me to spend some 'quality time' with her, which included shopping with her this past weekend."  
  
"Shopping can be fun," Lindsay said.

"Not when it's shopping for her work wardrobe," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "I ended up just repeating stuff from the class when she liked an outfit just so she'd leave me alone."

"What line did you go with?"

"It stands proudly and proclaims, 'I am!'"

Lindsay snorted. "Good choice. I think I would've gone with something like 'You are special. No one else is like you.'"

"I'll try that next time."

* * *

As usual, Tony was eating in relative silence as his family talked about their days. He had given his stock answer that school had been okay and assured his mom that his self-esteem was seriously _fine_ , but that had been it.

However, Angie dragged him into conversation once she talked about her day. “Oh, and I think Tonio has actually made a friend,” she teased lightly.

“What? You’re kidding!” Daniel said.

“Nope!” Angie said. “I saw him talking with someone at lunch.”

Tony rolled his eyes as his family made it into a big deal. “It’s not like I’ve never had friends before.”

“So she _is_ your friend,” Angie said excitedly.

“ _She_?” Daniel asked. “You sure it’s not a _girlfriend?”_

“She’s _not_ a girlfriend,” Tony said with another roll of his eyes.

“Oh, right, the gay thing.”

“I’m not _gay;_  I’m _bi,”_ Tony said for what had to be the millionth time.

“Same thing,” Daniel said.

Before Tony could launch into a rant, Angie said, “Her name’s Lindsay. She’s in Tonio’s grade. Blonde and super pretty."

“Ooo, Mr. Popular,” Lizzie teased.

“I know, right?” Angie said. “How did you even meet her?”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. She overheard me saying something and it made her laugh. And we have class together.”

“Oh, Tony, you were talking to yourself again?” His mom asked with concern.

“ _No_. I was ranting about some rude girl to…myself…” That didn’t make it sound any better.

“Was it Sally?” Angie asked. Tony nodded. “That makes sense. It’s so obvious Lindsay _hates_ her. I think Sally hates her back, though, so it’s whatever.”

“Why does she hate her?” Their mom asked.

“They’re both blondes in the same grade who both wanted to be cheer captain,” Angie said with a shrug. “And Sally got it, so I guess that’s that.”

“And Sally’s trying to get with Lindsay’s twin brother,” Tony said.

“Yeah…” Angie looked thoughtful. “From what I can tell they used to be pretty close, actually. Like, really good friends. I guess Sally getting captain ruined things. Like, Lindsay must have quit the team over it.”

“No. They kicked her off because Sally accused her of having an eating disorder,” Tony said, finding himself feeling defensive over Lindsay. “It’s why she’s in the self-esteem class.”

While Angie had a contemplative look on her face, Giulia said, “See! This class is already helping you! Giving you a friend and everything!” Tony just scoffed and went back to eating.

But, well, his mom did sort of have a point.

* * *

“You have any plans for tonight?” Lindsay asked on Friday after class.

“Nope,” Tony said.

“Me, neither,” Lindsay said. She looked towards the football field, where some people were already gathering for the game, and rolled her eyes. “I just need to get out of her ASAP. Our football team sucks, anyways.” She looked at Tony and asked, “Wanna grab a soda and some food at the mall or something?” Lindsay asked. “With everyone here for the game, it probably won’t be _too_ packed.”

Surprising himself, Tony actually agreed right away. It was surprising because he wasn’t really, you know, _social_ . _Ever._ Well, yeah, that was pretty obvious since he wasn’t really drowning in friends or anything, but even when he had the chances to make friends, he normally shied away from them. Most people annoyed him, after all.

And Lindsay was someone who should’ve annoyed him. She had been a cheerleader and she still seemed fairly popular and she liked fashion and all of that stuff. But she kinda reminded him of Angie, who was quite possibly his favorite person. Lindsay may have been bubbly on the outside, but she was cynical underneath that in a way that blended well with Tony’s own jaded attitude. And he had to admit her smile was pretty contagious. Not in a way that he was, like, _attracted_ to her or anything, just in the way that he found it hard not to smile a little around her.

…God, hopefully she didn’t think he was attracted to her. That would be a weird convo, especially given the whole low self-esteem thing.

As if she was thinking the same thing, when she pulled into the mall parking lot, she turned to him and said, “You know this isn’t a date, right?”

“Oh, god, yeah,” Tony agreed.

“Good. ‘Cause you’re not really my type. I mean, no offense.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not really mine, either. Also no offense.”

“Well, yeah, I just wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t interested in trying to make you straight or something,” Lindsay said nonchalantly.

She started to get out of the car, but Tony just stared at her. When he didn’t move, she turned back to him and raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

Tony blinked a few times. “H-how did you know that? Did Angie tell you?”

Lindsay looked confused. “No? I just thought it was kinda obvious that you’re gay.”

“Bi,” Tony corrected automatically.

“Oh. Cool.” Lindsay shrugged. She closed the car door behind her and, after a moment, Tony got out and followed her into the mall.

“…I didn’t realize I was that obvious,” Tony said quietly as they walked.

“I don’t know if it is to everyone else. I’ve always been good at telling if people are gay or not,” Lindsay said simply. “So, it’s obvious to _me_ , but probably not everyone, no.”

“Oh.”

After a moment, as they walked through the doors of the mall, she added, “I’m not gonna tell anyone, you know. I don’t think that stuff’s anyone’s business. And, like, yeah, I love gossip, but I don’t find this stuff that juicy. Like, it’s the 90s. People should be over it by now.”

Tony nodded with a small breath of laughter. “Yeah, you’d think.”

“It’s why I always tell my brother he should get over it and come out anyways.”

“…Michael’s bi?”

Lindsay laughed. “Oh, _god_ , no. Michael’s the straightest straight who ever lived.” Tony had to laugh, too; he hadn’t really interacted with the guy, but he came across as _extremely_ straight to him. “No, no, I meant my older brother. He’s gay. Or maybe bi. I don’t really know. I just know I’ve seen guys sneak out of his bedroom in the middle of the night or the next morning more than once. He doesn’t like talking about it, so I don’t know for sure.” She shrugged and added, “I can’t blame him, not with our parents being our parents.”

“They’re homophobic?”

“Well, this _is_ Orange County,” Lindsay pointed out. “And my parents, especially my mom, always worry about how we’ll appear to the press with how much my dad’s company is growing.”

“What does his company do?”

Lindsay gave Tony a look. “…You’ve seriously never heard of the Bluth Company?” Tony shook his head. “Oh. Well, I guess it’s a big deal here. It’s…I don’t know, something with real estate development. Whatever that means.”

“Oh.”

“What do your parents do?” Lindsay asked.

“Nothing like that. Well, not really,” Tony said. “My mom does some accounting or something, I don’t know. That’s why we’re here; she got offered a transfer with a lot of money that we could really use.”

“Does your dad not work?”

“Oh, no, he does,” Tony said. “He’s just self-employed, so he can work anywhere. He’s a baker—we opened up the new bakery a couple weeks ago. We all have to take turns helping out there—baking, cleaning, helping with customers.”

“They pay you at least, right?”

Tony shrugged. “A little.”

Lindsay led Tony to a pizza place in the mall, a thoughtful look on her face. “Well, food’s on me, then.”

“What? No, you don’t have to—”

“Hey, I invited you out, so I should pay,” Lindsay said. “Besides, what are friends for?” Tony wanted to argue, but he ended up nodding in agreement before they ordered.

Soon enough, they were sitting down, each with a slice of pizza on a plate. Tony noticed that Lindsay dabbed her pizza to get out the grease, but she still ate it. He had to admit he was a little concerned what with the bulimia rumor and the self-esteem class and the salads at lunch.

“So, I guess this is kinda the funnest thing around here?” Tony asked. “I don’t really know what you guys do for fun.”

“Well, yeah, this is an option,” Lindsay agreed. “The coolest part of being here, though, is probably being right on a beach. There’s a lot of boating things, too. You can see whales and take a ferry to Balboa Island. Or just sit on the beach and chill.”

Tony wrinkled his nose. “I’m not really an outdoors-y person.”

“Yeah. I can tell. You’re pretty pale.” Lindsay thought about it. “There’s museums and stuff, too. Lots of restaurants. Pools. The country club…”

“I don’t think most country clubs are into Jewish members,” Tony snorted.

Lindsay nodded and thought on it some more. “Oh, duh! There’s a pier full of things, including the Balboa Fun Zone—that has rides and stuff, like an off-brand version of the teacups from Disney and this _huge_ ferris wheel.” Lindsay’s face had lit up at that. “You _totally_ need to check that out.”

“Not sure on the teacups thing, but I could try the rest of it out,” Tony agreed.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Tony blinked; he hadn’t expected to be asked so fast. “Um…I think I have to work. Unfortunately,” Tony said. “I work most Saturdays.”

“Bummer.”

Tony nodded in agreement. But then he slowly grinned and said, “I think I can get out of it, though.”

* * *

As soon as Tony opened the door, his mom called out, “Tony? Is that you?”

“Yeah?” Tony called back as his mom rushed into the living room.

“Where have you _been_?” Giulia asked. “I was worried _sick!”_

“What? I’ve just been out,” Tony replied, looking at the clock. It was still before his curfew; in fact, he was sure the game was still going on, meaning Angie wasn’t home, either.

“Out? Did you go by yourself?”

“No, I was with a friend,” Tony said as he walked past his mom to the kitchen. He didn’t get the big deal.

His mom followed him into the kitchen where only his dad was. “Oh…”

“Lindsay invited me to pizza and a soda at the mall. I thought that would be okay,” Tony said as he poured himself a glass of water. “Was I supposed to ask or something? Angie never does.”

“What? I…no, I guess that’s fair…” Giulia said slowly. “I just didn’t expect you to…” she looked at Tony, who had raised an eyebrow, daring her to say she didn't expect her son to have a reason to be anywhere but home or the bakery or school. “I mean, I didn’t know you and Lindsay had gotten so close.”

Tony stared at her for a while before shrugging. “I guess we have. She’s pretty cool.”

“Well, I’ll start to expect you coming home later,” his mom said with a smile. “But you know that any friends of yours are allowed to come over after school, too.”

“Yeah…” Tony cleared his throat and then asked, “Speaking of, can I get out of work tomorrow?”

“What?” Dan said, finally joining the conversation. “No. We need you there.”

“Oh. Okay…” Tony sighed dramatically. “I guess I should call Lindsay and tell her I can’t make it.”

“Can’t make it to what?”

“Oh, nothing. She just invited me to go hang out with her. You know, go out and explore this new town that's supposed to be my home.” Tony saw how his mom looked a bit shocked but delighted at the news. “Don’t worry; I’m sure me bailing on her won’t destroy our friendship…” His mom and dad looked at each other with concern and it took all of Tony’s strength not to smile. “Well, _hopefully_. It’s still so new and fragile…kinda like my self-esteem. I’m sure losing a friend wouldn’t help _that_ , either.”

Tony started to reach for the phone when his mom suddenly said, “Take the day off.”

Tony looked over at his parents slowly. “Are you sure? I know how important it is for me to work—”

“We can have Angela fill in,” Dan said quickly. “Or maybe start teaching Lizzie some more things.”

“You should really hang out with your friend. She sounds nice.”

“Well, okay,” Tony said. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, kiddo,” Dan said.

“Friends are definitely more important than work,” Giulia said with a nod. “Now, you should probably run upstairs and head towards bed; you have a big day tomorrow.”

Tony nodded and soon ran up the stairs, only daring to smirk when he got to the second floor. Damn, that self-esteem course really _did_ teach him a lot.

* * *

“Oh my god, I told you I shouldn’t do the knock-off teacups,” Tony groaned. He sat down on a bench and bent over, trying to calm his stomach.

Lindsay winced and rubbed his back for a moment. She had insisted that Tony ride it, since it was her favorite one. Instead of being in a teacup, like at Disney, it was a little drum-shaped ride instead. She always found it funny. But due to the smaller amount of room to move and the higher speed limit of the drums, compared to the teacup ride, it definitely made you dizzier. “Sorry. I should’ve at least warned you it’s worse than the teacups.”

“It’s fine,” Tony said, still bent over. “I’ve never been on those, either, so I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Really? Well, now you live so close that we _have_ to take you on it sometime!” Taking in her new friend’s position, she hastily added, “Or maybe we’ll stick to Haunted Mansion instead.”

Despite the severe motion sickness, Tony had been having a surprisingly great time. The ferris wheel was fun. There was a bumper cars ride that had been pretty sweet. And he had enjoyed just walking around and talking with Lindsay, even if he still wasn’t fond of the whole being in the sun thing.

At least the bench was in the shade.

“Sorry I’m kinda ruining the day.”

“You aren’t,” Lindsay said. “Take as long as you need to feel better. I’d prefer if you didn’t throw up on me.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want more bulimia rumors to spread.”

“Yeah. Right.” Lindsay paused for a while as Tony continued to work on breathing through his nausea. Finally, she said, “Sally really didn’t catch me throwing up when she said she did.” She paused for a beat before admitting, “But she had caught me before.”

Tony straightened himself up and looked over at her. “…Oh?”

Lindsay nodded. “Yeah. Just a couple of times. I really _don’t_ have a problem, you know. Like, I know I’m hot.” Tony couldn’t help but laugh at that a little, and Lindsay did, too. “But you can’t be at the top of the pyramid if you’re even a couple of pounds too heavy.” Tony slowly nodded, not sure what else to do.

“They offered me a spot back, you know,” Lindsay continued. “If I pass the self-esteem course, I can join. They even offered to let me take it early so I could join before the first football game.”

“Why didn’t you take it?”

“…I spent a lot of time this summer thinking about it,” Lindsay said. “At first I was sure I’d join ASAP. I have the test answers, so it’s not like I couldn’t pass it. But, I don’t know. I started spending time doing things I hadn’t in a while, since I was always so consumed with cheerleading and then the dance team and going on dates and all of these things my mother wanted for me. You know, since being popular is the most important thing in her book. But I spent the summer painting and hanging out with my older brother, Gob, and just…not _thinking_ about being popular and having to look a certain way or anything. It’s why I added the streaks.” She looked down at the colors in her hair. “I know it’s kinda dumb, but I never did anything but highlights before, so it was fun.”

She sighed. “But I guess once I pass the text next week, I’ll be back on the team. I haven’ t told my mom about that part yet, but I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

Tony frowned. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I don’t want to fail the test and take the class yet _again,_ affirmations or not.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Tony said, shaking his head. “You’re obviously happier not doing it, so why start up again? And if your mom doesn’t know about it, you don’t even have to worry about her getting mad about it. Plus, if it made you do _that_ , you really shouldn’t be on it.”

For a long while, Lindsay was silent again. Finally, she slowly smiled and nodded. “You know what, you’re right. Honestly, I’ve had more fun with you in that class than I ever had as a cheerleader.” Tony smiled a little and Lindsay looked over at him. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Of course,” Tony said. “What are friends for?”

* * *

When they finally finished that dumb self-esteem course, Lindsay asked Tony, “Wanna come over to my house to celebrate? We officially have adequate self-esteem and I don't even have to cheer about it.”

He didn’t have to work at the bakery or anything, so he immediately agreed. “You sure your parents will be okay with it?” Tony asked as he hopped into her car.

“Yeah, they probably won’t even be there,” Lindsay said with a shrug before starting her engine. “Mom spends most of the days at the club or somewhere else and my dad’s always working. It’s normally just us kids at home. And Michael’s car is still here,” she pointed to a rather boring looking four-door sedan, “and Buster’s still at school. If anyone’s there, it’ll just be my older brother, Gob. Who's probably sleeping. _Still._ ”

After a moment, Tony asked, “Are your parents religious?”

Lindsay laughed loudly before starting the drive. “What? Why would you think that?”

“Because your brother’s name? Job?”

“ _Ohhhh_. No, they’re not. That’s just a nickname from his initials—George Oscar Bluth II. G-O-B. Gob.”

“…Weird,” Tony said. “How much older is he?”

“About three years,” Lindsay said.

“Is he in college or anything?”

Again, Lindsay laughed. “No way. He almost was. He got accepted to a few—including one of the big ones in New York, actually.”

“NYU?”

“No. Juilliard,” Lindsay said simply, like people did that every day. “He’s a pianist—a really good one, too.”

“Why didn’t he go?”

“He wants to do a different kind of music. More rock than classical.” She shrugged. “Plus, he’s kinda lazy. I’m not sure he would’ve cut it at Juilliard. I love the guy, but he’s not the hardest worker.” Tony nodded and left it at that.

* * *

The Bluth’s house turned out to be _huge_. Like, _really_ huge. Even with each of the four kids and their parents having a room, there was _still_ a guest room. There was a living room that hosted a grand piano, a great room with a large TV, a surprisingly small yard (“mom doesn’t like dirt being tracked in”), and an immaculate marble kitchen that had a maid in there when they got there.

“Hey, Rosa,” Lindsay said briefly in greeting, grabbing an apple for herself. “This is my friend, Tony.”

“Hey,” Tony said quietly, offering her a small wave. He was so amazed by the house that it was kind of overwhelming. He could barely speak.

Thankfully, getting to her room helped. Unlike the almost creepishly cleanness of the rest of the house he had seen, Lindsay’s room was a bit scattered. She had posters all over the walls and art supplies all around the floor. She had an easel set up where she was working on something that seemed to be inspired by cubism. It was actually really good. “You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” she said brightly. “I never really thought I’d get so into art, but, I don’t know, I really love it.”

“Yeah. I’m the same sort of way with writing,” Tony said with a nod. “And photography. I’m pretty into that, too.”

Soon enough, the two were simply chilling on Lindsay’s bed watching TV. They were only halfway through the rerun of _Happy Days_ they had stumbled upon when Tony heard the sound of a piano being played loudly in the middle of nowhere.

_“You’re as cold as ice, willing to sacrifice…”_

Lindsay barely seemed to register that anything was happening. “What’s that?” Tony asked.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I’m used to it,” Lindsay said with a shrug. “That’s Gob. He just randomly plays throughout the day. Sometimes rock, sometimes classical.” Tony nodded and she asked, “Wanna meet him?”

“Uh, sure,” Tony said. She led him out of her room and back down the stairs.

Lindsay started to enter the living room the piano was in, but Tony pulled her back. “Shouldn’t we wait until he’s done playing?”

Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Once he starts, he won’t stop for hours or until someone makes him. Trust me.” Tony nodded and followed her in.

Tony watched as she went over to the guy sitting at the piano and pushed his shoulder. The guy immediately stopped and asked, “Hey, what the fuck?”

“Come on, I want you to meet my friend,” Lindsay said. Tony couldn’t help but smile a little at being called a “friend”. It was still weird to realize he had one. Like, a real one.

“Is this some other slutty cheerleader—”

“No! I told you I’m not a cheerleader anymore, anyways.”

“They were still slutty—”

“Shut up!”

The guy turned around on the bench. Lindsay said, “Gob, this is Tony Wunderlich. Tony, this is my older brother, Gob.”

“Hey,” Gob said. His voice was deep and pretty raspy. Sexy. He stood up and walked over to Tony, offering his hand.

Tony took his hand, his own eyes wide, his heart pounding in his chest, and his cheeks heating up.

“…H-hey,” Tony finally managed to say. His voice sounded higher and reedier, at least in his own ears. _Pathetic._ Why did he sound like that? Did he really sound that weird or was it just him overthinking things? He vaguely noticed Lindsay raising an eyebrow at him, so he probably  _did_ sound weird.

“Cool piercings,” Gob said.

“Th-thanks,” Tony mumbled out, nervously running a hand over one of his earrings.

Gob turned to Lindsay, “Is Rosa still here? I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“It’s 4:30 in the afternoon, Gob.”

“So?”

Lindsay sighed. “She was in the kitchen when we were last in there.”

“Cool. Thanks.” Gob turned to Tony again and said, “See ya later.”

Tony couldn’t even get out a reply as Gob left. He was just happy his breathing went back to normal and his heart stopped pumping so fucking hard when he did.

After all the things Lindsay had told him about herself, how did she fail to mention that he was so fucking  _hot?_ Tall, dark hair, handsome, talented, and that low  _voice_ _?_ Tony could still feel himself blushing.

“ _Wow_ ,” Lindsay said, a big grin on her face. She crossed her arms and sarcastically said, “Nice conversational skills.”

"Shut up."

"You know, I've seen  _plenty_ of girls and definitely some guys flirt with my brother, but I've  _definitely_ never seen someone be stunned speechless," Lindsay said. Tony glared at her. "It's honestly kinda adorable."

“I _hate_ you,” Tony responded immediately, shaking his head while Lindsay continued to smirk at him.

She was  _totally_ going to have fun with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go! I'm not sure if anyone outside of the #GurlGroup4Evah will read this or not lol. This is truly going to be the most #me a fic can be: piano Gob (to a degree), plenty of Daria references, and best friends and family stuff?? So much!
> 
> Obviously this first chapter was mainly setting them up. I didn't want them to go the route of passing early and having to accept awards in front of the school, especially since the "Quinn" of this fic isn't denying being related to the "Daria" lol so it's not as rewarding. 
> 
> Anyways, I have a loose idea of where this very loosely Daria-based fic will go. I hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think!! <3


	2. Grunge WAS Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Before that…that _grunge_ , Seattle was just another city in our nation's capital."  
> "Wrong Washington."  
> "Yes, grunge _was_ wrong, but you can't blame the whole state."  
> -Quinn and Daria Morgendorffer, "The Lost Girls" (3x06)

As their junior year progressed, Tony and Lindsay started to spend more time together. What had started as an unlikely friendship due to being forced to take a self-esteem course turned into an actual, genuine friendship. Which, yeah, was probably good for them. 

Tony had never really had a lot of friends growing up, seeing as he was rather anti-social. Years of being in a huge, loud family had turned Tony from an attention-seeker to someone who just wanted and valued his privacy. Before Lindsay, he never really had anyone he wanted to spend time with besides Angie. Lindsay was the first person he actually bonded with who he wasn’t forced to due to being the closest in age of his siblings. It was definitely the first time he consistently hung out with someone on his own free will.

But, it wasn’t just a friendship that was good for Tony. It was good for Lindsay, too. She had always thought her fellow cheerleaders were her friends, her _best_ friends, but as she had tried to hold onto her old popularity when she came back from her junior year, she realized just how shallow those friendships were. They were as shallow as, well, the shallow people she _thought_ she had befriended. As shallow as _she_ used to be. And, true, maybe she could still be shallow and judgmental, but at least she was _trying_ to grow unlike her old “friends”. But Tony was different. Tony made her think of things in different ways, made her approach the world in different ways, made her open up in ways she never had before. And well, they just soul-bonded right away, and soon the two of them were rather inseparable.

The two of them sat next to each other whenever they had classes together, they ate lunches together, and they ended up walking the halls and talking together in between most of their classes. After school, it was common to see Tony getting in Lindsay’s car, and the two of them would either go out for pizza or go over to Lindsay’s house to hang out, sometimes both. Tony would work on homework or read or just hang out in Lindsay’s room while Lindsay normally painted or sculpted or even sewed, anything art-related. She was still exploring all of that, all these talents she had never let herself explore for years. They normally had the TV on or would play the radio or some CDs, just something in the background in between their discussions.

It was always Lindsay’s place, because Tony’s was just so _crowded_. Both his house that held too many people and his dad's bakery, that was picking up some business. Not only was the Bluth residence larger than Tony’s, but it had less people in it. Even if Lindsay’s parents were home, which they rarely were, it would be easy to be alone in a house that big.

Though, yes, Tony _had_ been over enough that he _did_ meet Mrs. Bluth one day, and he couldn’t say it was the most positive experience. Maybe if the zingers she made hadn’t been focused on his height, he would’ve enjoyed them more.

Anyways, the point was, the two of them spent a lot of time together. They spent so much time together it was possible people assumed they were dating, but, truly, nothing could be further from the case. Even if Lindsay had been his type, he wouldn’t want to try to date her and ruin the first real friendship he had.

And, of course, there was his not-so-secret crush on Lindsay’s older brother.

It was something Tony truly didn’t understand. Tony wasn’t the most talkative at times, but he had never been stunned speechless from someone. And he had never expected someone like _Gob Bluth_ to be the person to make him so nervous and blush-y like some girl in a cheesy rom-com. But there was just something about him, apparently, something that made his stomach flip and his heart pound and his cheeks heat up.

Tony had spent hours trying to figure out what it was. Was it the height? Tony had always thought taller guys were cute, that was true, and Gob was, like, freakishly tall (even those who found Tony short had to agree that Gob was a fucking giant, right?). Was it the charmingly crooked smile? It _did_ look nice on him; anyone could admit that. Maybe it was the voice? It was deep and low and raspy which Tony definitely appreciated, especially when he said his name. Maybe it was his eyes and how they seemed to look at him like he was actually seeing him for real, not just a random glance? The freckles, which was something he rarely saw growing up in New York City? The musical ability? His casual attitude that was so different from Tony’s own?

Truly, Tony didn’t understand it. So, he did his best to ignore it and not think about it.

However, that was difficult to do, seeing as Lindsay loved to remind him of it whenever possible.

One day the two of them were, as usual, hanging out in her room. Tony was watching TV on Lindsay’s bed while she fiddled with something as she sat on the floor. Eventually she turned to Tony and held up her work. “Soooo, what do you think?”

Tony looked over at her and furrowed his brow in concentration. It looked like small, hairy arches with some beads attached. “Um…what is it?”

“False eyelashes,” Lindsay said proudly. “Homemade—well, I bought the eyelashes, but the beadwork is mine.” She got up on the bed and showed him the detail and, honestly, it _was_ impressive due to how small of a canvas she had to work with.

“Nice,” Tony said genuinely. “But you’re not wearing that to school or something, are you?”

“Nah. It’s more for a party or something,” she said with a shrug. “I’m still exploring all kinds of art, you know, and I think make-up and stuff falls in with that.”

“No, yeah, I get it. I think it’s cool.” He looked at the false eyelashes warily and said, “Just don’t try to put them on me. I don’t want my eyes sealed shut by that glue.”

Lindsay rolled her eyes and was about to reply, but they were interrupted by the loud, amplified sound of an electric guitar. And, at that point, Tony should’ve known to just ignore it, but instead he asked, “What’s that?”

“Gob must be practicing,” Lindsay said, not thinking anything about it at first. But then she grinned, put the eyelashes and glue on the cabinet, and grabbed Tony’s hand. “Let’s go complain about the noise.”

Tony tried to resist her pull. “It’s fine. I…I have unusually sturdy eardrums?”

“You know, I think Gob’s always looking for a new groupie,” Lindsay chirped as she led them out of her room.

“I think I’m going to start looking for a new _friend,”_ Tony replied darkly.

Once they reached the basement, where the noise was coming from, Tony heard a keyboard join the guitar. “Wait, is he playing guitar or keyboard?”

“He’s normally on keys, but he plays some guitar and a whole bunch of other things. His friend Jesse is normally on guitar, though,” Lindsay explained. “They’re half of Gob and the Banana Grabbers—his band.”

“Gob and the Banana Grabbers? It sounds like they’re just jerking each other off.”

Lindsay cackled. “He _wishes.”_

The music was so loud that Tony could barely make out the words that Gob was singing. What he did hear, he was _sure_ he had to have been hearing incorrectly. There was no way Gob was singing a song about [freezer burn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18fMjSC7b48), was he?

“YO! GOB!” Lindsay yelled over the music. Gob and Jesse stopped playing and looked up at her. “Can you turn that down?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Gob scoffed. He took notice of Tony and gave him a nod of his head. “Hey, Tony.”

It took entirely too long for Tony to finally muster up a quiet, “Hey.”

“What did ya think of the song?”

It honestly just sounded like a lot of noise to Tony. Enough noise that it sounded less like music and more like being in a construction site. But, with Gob’s gaze on him, all he could say was, “Cool.”

Jesse said, “You guys should come to the next Banana Grabbers gig—”

“ _Gob_ and the Banana Grabbers,” Gob corrected.

“We can get you on the list.”

Lindsay tilted her head and said, “You know, Tony was just telling me that name sounds like you guys just jerk each other off. Right, Tony?”

“I…I didn’t—”

“Hmmm…Maybe you’re right,” Gob said, looking thoughtful. “Huh…I’ll have to think on that one…”

“We’ve been thinking of changing the name,” Jesse said with a shrug.

“Yeah, we still have some time before our next gig if we decide to change it,” Gob said. “Maybe we’ll get inspired at Alternapalooza this weekend.”

“You’re going to Alternapalooza?” Lindsay asked. 

“Yeah. We figure it’s a good thing to check out some of the up and coming alternative bands. You know, our competition.”

“Again, he _wishes,”_ Lindsay muttered under her breath so only Tony could hear. She looked back at her brother and asked, “How are you getting there? Isn’t your car in the shop?”

“We’re taking the limo,” Gob said.

If Tony had been able to speak more than a few words at a time, he would’ve asked for clarification because there was no way their family was so rich they’d actually have a _limo driver_ take him to some day-long, outdoor concert in the middle of nowhere, right?

“You’re driving your _limo?”_ Lindsay asked with a snort and a raised eyebrow. “That far? That thing goes through gas so quickly."

“Yeah, but it’s less likely to fall apart than his car,” Gob said, gesturing to his bandmate. “But I’m nearly maxed out on my credit card—that new amp cost a lot. So, gas money might be a problem.”

“I haven’t reached my credit limit yet,” Lindsay said brightly. “I’ll let you have it if you bring me and Tony along.” Tony looked at her with panic in his eyes and she just smirked. “We’d like that, wouldn’t we?” Gob’s eyes shifted over to Tony hopefully.

Tony was very close to choking her. But, well, he _did_ want to go. He had seen the line-up and actually wanted to hear some of those bands, but he figured he had no way to get there. But now he had a way and how could he say “no” when Gob was looking at him like that?

How could he say _any_ words with Gob looking at him at all?

“…Uh-huh,” Tony said in agreement.

“Cool, sounds like a plan,” Gob said.

Lindsay asked, “How far’s that drive? Like, four-ish hours? Six in traffic?”

Gob nodded. “Something like that. Hope you don’t mind spending that long in a car with us.”

The blood rushed out of Tony’s face. Maybe he really _did_ need to choke Lindsay.

* * *

Things were relatively calm at the Wunderlich dinner the night leading up to the concert. Well, they were until Angie’s sleeve rolled up a little and their mom’s eagle eye caught the sight of ink.

 _“Angela Benita Wunderlich,_ what is on your arm?” Giulia screeched, pulling Angela’s sleeve up further.

She rolled her eyes. “ _Ma_ , it’s _fake.”_

“Because the school really needs to think you have _more_ fake things on your body,” Tony said with a straight face.

Angela hit his arm and looked back at her mom. “It’s for the concert this weekend. Alternapalooza.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“But, even if it _wasn’t_ fake, I’m eighteen, remember?” Angela pointed out. “And if I used my own money to get another piercing or get a tattoo, I can. You always said I can do what I want with my own money.”

“Money that _we_ pay you,” Dan pointed out.

“But it’s still _my_ money. And _my_ body. My body, my choice, right?” Angela smiled and added, “But I’d never get anything on my arm. I’d go for, like, my lower back or something.”

Daniel muttered to Tony, “To give her dates something to watch.” Tony hit his arm but still laughed with him. While no one else heard his joke, Angela’s glare made it clear she knew what the joke was.

After a moment, Tony realized something. _“You’re_ going to Alternapalooza, too?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re _you.”_

Daniel nodded in agreement. “Yeah. You’re, like, all into that pop stuff.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “I can be alternative if I want to be, okay? And my friends are all going. It’s going to be fun.” She looked at Tony, “Wait, _you’re_ going?”

“Yeah. Lindsay and I are going with her brother and one of his friends.”

Angela raised an eyebrow, _“Michael’s_ going?”

“God, no.” While Tony hadn’t talked to him much, since he seemed to always be out doing some activity or working or hiding in his room to do homework, he got the impression that Michael wasn’t really the most fun person to be around. The few times he had talked to him, Michael seemed to be pretty sarcastic and thought he knew better than everyone else. Okay, he figured Michael was that way, all lecture-y and stuff, because his parents were never around to do that job for him, but it was still annoying.

“It’s her _older_ brother, Gob,” Tony said, looking adamantly at his plate. Hopefully Gob’s name didn’t come out sounding as dreamy as it did when he said it in his head.

“That makes more sense,” Angela said, laughing slightly. “Michael’s in my stats class—he’s super smart, but he can barely speak around me. It’s so funny.”

Tony snorted. “At least he shuts up around _some_ people.”

“Yeah, too bad no one has that effect on you,” Angela joked.

“…Uh-huh,” Tony said, trying not to think about how he was about to spend four hours trapped in a fucking _limo_ with a guy who did exactly that.

* * *

Lindsay had never actually been inside of Tony's house. She had seen the outside of it plenty of times when she’d drive him home after school, but that was it. 

But on the morning of Alternapalooza, Lindsay made her way over to Tony’s. Though he hadn’t directly asked for help, since he had too much pride to directly ask for it, he very much _implied_ that he wanted her help picking an outfit. She also figured she should be around him before they were trapped in the limo for hours and Tony would turn into a mute yet again. It was amusing, sure, and she couldn’t wait to see him get all blush-y around her brother, just because no one _else_ made him that blush-y, but she still wanted to actually _talk_ to him at some point. Talking to him was one of the best parts of their friendship.

She rang the doorbell once she got there and waited patiently, looking over her own “alternative” outfit. Ever since quitting the cheerleading team (well, getting kicked off and deciding not to join again when offered the chance), Lindsay had been exploring more alternative outfits versus her old bright colors and Gucci-brand clothing, and she had liked a lot of it. She actually thought she looked pretty hot in her concert outfit: black shorts, white crop-top, and a red flannel left unbuttoned, though she was sure she’d button it come night fall. The pink and blue had faded from her hair, but she made up for the lack of color in her hair by wearing a dark, red lipstick. It was starting to become her signature color after years of only wearing the light, pink glosses that were all the rage at school.

At the sound of the door opening, Lindsay suddenly looked back up. There was a guy at the door who had to be in his 20s at the oldest. His hair was a bit lighter than Tony’s and slightly curly, but he was taller and had more muscle than her friend. She figured that had to be his brother. Lindsay opened her mouth, but the guy yelled up the stairs, “Angela! Your friend’s here!” He looked back at Lindsay and said, “You’re one of the people taking her to Alternapalooza, right?”

Lindsay opened her mouth again to correct him, but then Angela made her way to the door and rolled her eyes. “Daniel, this is _Lindsay.”_

The guy blinked a few times. “Lindsay? As in the Lindsay that Tony hangs out with all the time? _That_ Lindsay?”

“Yeah, dumbass.”

He looked Lindsay up and down and said, “…And you’re friends with _Tony.”_

“Yeah,” Lindsay said.

“Wow…” He shook his head again before finally offering Lindsay a hand. “Well. I’m Daniel.”

 _“Lindsay,”_ she said, even though that had been made clear. “Can I go see Tony now?”

“I’ll take you to him,” Angela said before her older brother could say anything. Daniel shook his head, apparently still in disbelief, but let Lindsay inside, giving her another once over. Angela glared at her brother and reminded him, “She’s Tony’s friend as in she’s _sixteen_ , Daniel. Stop being a perv.”

Daniel started to protest, but Angela took Lindsay up the stairs and said, “Ignore him.”

“I will,” Lindsay assured her. “So, you’re going to Alternapalooza, too?”

“Yep. Just with some friends from school.”

“Oh. Who?”

“You know, just some of the cheerleaders…” Though Lindsay’s jaw tightened slightly, she didn’t say anything. She should’ve figured Angela would be hanging out with her former “friends”, the “friends” who had more or less forgotten she had existed. It’s not like she could blame Angela for befriending her squad-mates. “Katie, Melissa…” Angela stopped at a door before admitting, “…Sally.” Lindsay couldn’t stop her eyes from narrowing at that reveal. “You know, she’s really not that bad, and she _did_ get Coach to agree to let you re-join—”

“Is this Tony’s room?” Lindsay interrupted. Angela nodded and Lindsay said, “Thanks.” With that, she opened the door and went inside, closing the door in Angela’s face.

It took her a moment to take in the scene she walked in on. There looked like what had to be hundreds of black shirts on the floor and Tony was looking in the mirror at himself in black jeans with yet another black shirt.

“You know guys are allowed to wear colors, right?” Lindsay asked as a form of greeting.

“Really? I had no idea,” Tony said sarcastically. He looked at her reflection in his mirror and raised an impressed eyebrow. “You look alternative.”

“Thanks,” Lindsay said, pleased. She looked over her friend’s reflection and asked, “Are you wearing guyliner?”

“No. I just have ridiculously thick eyelashes,” Tony deadpanned.

“If you really want to pass that off, I brought some extra of my homemade eyelashes—I’m waiting to put them on my own until the festival, but I’m willing to help you get them on now.”

He rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t plan on letting any form of adhesive near my eyes, but thanks.” Tony sighed and asked, “Look, is this okay? I really have no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s fine,” Lindsay said honestly. “I mean, you definitely look more alternative than your sister or her friends or anyone else from school will end up looking, so you really don’t need to sweat it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’ve got the earrings and the hair and the guyliner, which already has you looking good,” she said honestly. “…However, if you’re trying to impress a certain someone we’re going with—”

 _“Lindsay!”_ Tony whispered harshly. He jerked his head towards the top bunk bed in the room, and she almost jumped as she noticed another person was there with a book in hand. “That’s my brother, Mike. Mike, this is my friend, Lindsay.” After a moment, he leaned in to whisper, “My family knows I’m bi, but they don’t need to know about… _specifics,_ okay? Mike probably won’t say anything, but, you know, be careful.”

“Got it,” Lindsay whispered back. She cleared her throat and, figuring she should at least greet Tony’s brother, she said, “Hi.” Mike waved at her in greeting. “I think you’re in class with my brother? His name’s Buster Bluth; do you know him?” Mike nodded in reply. “I promise I’m not anywhere near as weird as him.” Mike smiled a little and nodded again.

Lindsay looked at Tony, a little confused. Tony shrugged. He whispered, “Like I said, he probably won’t say anything, but better safe than sorry. If my parents find out, I don’t know if I’d be allowed over anymore. And I _definitely_ wouldn’t be able to go to Alternapalooza.” His parents had mostly calmed down about the bi thing, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“Right…Well, anyways, as long as they never see you in the same room as _him_ , I guess you’re covered,” Lindsay whispered back. She looked him over and crossed her arms. “Anyways, do you have any band shirts? Because those would most definitely impress… _general concert-goers.”_

Tony started going through his shirts on the floor. “I have AC/DC somewhere…Pink Floyd, Bowie, Nirvana…” He picked up a random shirt and said, “Queen—”

“That one.” Tony gave her a look and she said, “ _Definitely_ go with Queen. They’re the best.” She shot a look at Mike and then looked back at Tony again. “I know they happen to be the favorite of _certain people_ who may or may not be joining us there.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Ohhh…got it.” He grabbed the shirt and left his bedroom to go get changed in the bathroom, leaving the door open.

Lindsay looked at the bed that wasn’t part of the bunk bed system and sat down on it. She looked around the room curiously. There wasn’t much by means of decoration, but they did have a TV with a VCR, so at least her friend had _that_ going for him. There were a few posters up as well and a lot of books piled up in a bookcase and some free weights in the corner. She had a feeling those belonged to Daniel, since she definitely couldn’t imagine her friend working out.

A woman soon looked in. “…Hello?”

“Hi,” Lindsay said. After a beat, she remembered, duh, she didn’t know who this person was and they didn’t know her. “Oh, I’m Lindsay.”

“Oh, right, Tony’s friend,” she said with a smile. Lindsay liked her smile; it was very warm. “I’m his sister, Chiara.”

“Nice to meet you—”

“Michaaaaaeeeel!” A young girl ran in and jumped onto the bottom bunk, reaching up towards Michael. “Daniel said he’d let us play _Super Mario_ with him!”

“Pippa,” Chiara said, her voice slightly reprimanding. “Do you want to introduce yourself to our guest?”

The young girl turned to Lindsay. With both her and Mike facing her way, she could definitely see how much they resembled each other. Definitely much more than she resembled _her_ twin Michael. “Hi! I’m Pip!”

“I’m Lindsay—”

“You’re Tony’s friend!” Pip said excitedly. “Lindsay Bluth! Like Buster _Bluth!_ He’s in our class! Right, Michael?” Mike nodded and started to climb down from the top bunk bed. “Buster’s really nice! But he’s also kinda strange—”

 _“Pip!”_ Chiara reprimanded.

“He’s really, really nice, though! He’s just really nervous and shy and he talks about missing his mom a lot. I get it, because I like hanging out with my mom, too, but we’re _nine,_ so shouldn’t he be okay with being away from his mom by now?”

“You’d think—”

“I hope we can be friends, because you’re friends with Tony and Tony said he’s going to the concert thingie with you and your brother, so I guess Tony’s friends with your brother, too, which means all three of us could be friends—”

“I actually have a twin brother, too—”

“Yeah, you have a brother named Michael who’s your twin like Michael’s _my_ twin!” Pip said. “That’s really funny!” She looked back at her twin. “Don’t you think so, Michael?” Michael nodded and Pip looked back at Lindsay. “Except your brother’s name isn’t really Michelangelo, is it?”

“No—”

“But Michael doesn’t like his real name.” Michael nodded and Pip nodded as well. “I don’t like my real name, either. It’s really Filippa. I prefer Pip a lot more.”

“Understandable.”

“I think Filippa’s a fine name,” Chiara said.

“It’s so _weird,_ Kiki!” Chiara frowned and Mike pulled at Pip’s arm, giving her a look. Pip frowned. “Sorry, I know you don’t like that name.” Mike gave her an approving nod. “…Like how I don’t like Filippa.” Mike frowned at her and pulled her arm again. She looked at her brother, both of them just trading looks for a few moments, before looking back up at her oldest sister with an apologetic expression. “Sorry, Chiara.”

“It’s okay,” Chiara said. She looked at Mike and said, “Thank you for reprimanding her for me.” She ruffled his hair and Mike gave her a small smile in return.

Lindsay just blinked, utterly confused.

“Lizzie! Stop stealing my earrings!” Lindsay heard Tony say as he headed back towards his room. “It’s _disgusting.”_

“Hey, I clean them afterwards! It’s not a big deal,” Lizzie insisted. Tony glared as he stopped at the entrance to his room and held out his hand expectedly. A young girl, Lindsay assumed she was thirteen at most, sighed and pulled out the earrings she was wearing and put them in Tony’s palm.

“At least _ask_ next time,” Tony said as he closed his hand around them and looked back at his room. “Guys! Can you get out of here? You’re going to overwhelm Lindsay.”

“Yeah, and we wouldn’t want to scare away your only friend,” Lizzie said as she crossed her arms. Chiara scolded her, but Lizzie ignored her and nodded her head Lindsay’s way. “I’m Lizzie, by the way.”

“Hey,” Lindsay said.

 _“Guys,”_ Tony groaned.

“Come on, Pip, Mike, why don’t you go play that game,” Chiara said.

“Okay, Kiki!” Pip said cheerfully before running out, Mike running after her.

“There’s no need to run!” Chiara said as she followed after them. Lizzie looked in and then, with a shrug, went the opposite direction of everyone else.

“And _that’s_ why we’re going to wait outside,” Tony said, putting the earrings Lizzie had taken on his bedside table. “Sorry about that. But I guess at least now you’ve met everyone. Well, not my parents or Daniel—”

“Daniel let me in,” Lindsay said. She smiled a little and said, “It was kinda all entertaining, though, having so many people around and stuff? Like…so much personality.” After a moment, she relented, “Except for Mike, I guess. But that’s true of my own Michael, anyways.” Tony snorted at that and Lindsay grinned.

“Well, I definitely prefer hanging at your place,” Tony said. Then he pulled at his shirt a bit and asked, “Looking good?”

“Very,” Lindsay said with a nod of her head. After she did one last check in the mirror herself, Tony led her back downstairs and to the kitchen where his mom and dad were. The bakery didn’t open until noon on Saturdays, but his dad was clearly getting some bread ready for the opening hour, since the whole kitchen smelled like baked bread. It was a smell Tony was so used to, he didn’t even think about it.

“Ma, dad, this is Lindsay,” Tony said, knowing they wanted to meet her before they went. Lindsay waved at them and said a small _hi_. “Her brother should be here soon, so we’re just gonna grab the food and then—”

Sure enough, his mom had stood up from the table and walked over to greet Lindsay, pulling her into a hug. Lindsay made a small noise of shock, her eyes wide as she looked at Tony. It was honestly kinda funny.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Lindsay,” Giulia said happily as she pulled away from Lindsay.

“You, too, Mrs. Wunderlich.”

“Oh, please, call me Giulia,” she said. Lindsay nodded in agreement. “Our little Antonio has told us so much about you.”

 _“Ma,”_ Tony stage-whispered.

Both women ignored him. “I’m glad. He’s a great friend to have,” Lindsay said. Unable to stop herself, she said, “It smells great in here.”

Dan smiled. “That’s my award winning challah bread.” He offered a flour-dusted hand to her. “You can call me Dan.”

Lindsay shook his hand and exchanged some pleasantries. After a moment, Lindsay wondered out loud, “I wonder if Rosa knows how to make challah.”

Tony said, “I doubt your Mexican maid knows how to make challah; it’s a pretty Jewish thing. But I can definitely show you how to make it sometime.”

“I don’t know…I barely know how to use the stove,” Lindsay said with a shrug. She never had to learn how to cook, so why would she know something like that? She also had the whole not being encouraged to eat thing going on most of her life, but that was another story.

“I can show you; it’s not hard once you get the hang of it,” Tony said. Of course, he had literal years of experience, but whatever. “Anyways, let me just grab the stuff I made and we’ll go wait outside.” He grabbed the tupperware of snacks and, at his mom’s insistence, grabbed his jacket as well, since it _did_ get cold at night.

“I like your family,” Lindsay said brightly.

“Really?”

“Yeah! Like I said, they’re definitely colorful and I love that. And your parents seem nice. They’re a lot better than my parents—not saying much, I know, but still.” Before Tony could say anything else on the subject, Lindsay asked, “So, what did you make us?”

“Just a few different kinds of cookies,” Tony said. Those were his specialty.

“Good. Gob _loves_ cookies,” Lindsay said. She grinned and said, “God, I’m glad you have a Queen shirt. He’s seriously _obsessed_ . You’ll, like, actually have to talk to him now, which I think is _very_ good for you.”

Tony tensed up at the idea. While he could recognize that was good since he really _did_ need to learn to talk in front of his best (and only) friend’s brother, the idea of even trying was enough to make him break into a cold sweat.

Lindsay probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Tony put his sweatshirt on to cover the Queen logo just a second later.

* * *

Lindsay grumbled that Gob being late was to be expected. They had planned on leaving about forty five minutes before Gob got there. Thankfully, he at least managed to get there right as a car full of Angela’s cheerleading friends pulled into the driveway. Lindsay climbed all too quickly into the back of the limo to avoid them.

“Sorry, there are only two seats up here,” Jesse told them.

Lindsay suggested, “Maybe Tony can sit in the front and Jesse and I can sit in the back for now.” She mostly suggested it because she knew Tony had motion sickness issues. Well, she also liked the idea of torturing him by making him have to learn to talk to her brother, but it _was_ mainly out of concern.

Tony shot her a look. “No, I’d _much_ rather sit back here with you,” he said. But as soon as he got in the car, he regretted that decision.

Tony was never a big fan of traveling by car. In his defense, he didn’t have to do that too often in the past. While he didn’t live in the city, Long Island still had plenty of public transit, or he could walk or ride a bike or something. He never had to drive somewhere for more than maybe twenty minutes. Whenever he went to the city, he’d go via the train, and he had found out that traveling by train or subway—anything that was on a rail—was normally easier on his stomach than a car.

Cars, however? Not Tony’s friend. Same with buses, really; they jiggled around more and upset his stomach and he could get some major motion sickness if the ride lasted long enough under the worst conditions. At least the school buses in New York had seatbelts, which meant less movement.

That was why he realized he made a huge mistake as soon as he got in the limo. First of all, there weren’t any seatbelts or anything, so he was sure he was going to jostle around no matter what. Second of all, it smelled a lot like weed, which, while not stomach-turning itself, definitely wasn’t going to help that situation, not when combined with the stuffy air of the limo. There _was_ an A/C vent back there, but it didn’t seem particularly strong.

Still, he didn’t want to make a fuss or anything. He’d probably be fine; it had been a long time since he actually threw up or anything from his motion sickness, and he _had_ gotten used to driving more since he moved to Newport Beach. Lindsay wasn’t exactly the best driver out there and he had survived her. How much worse could this be?

Lindsay gave her friend a concerned look, but chose to take his lead by not saying anything about it. Instead, she said, “Tony brought us snacks, by the way. Cookies.”

Gob seemed to perk up from the front as he re-started the limo. “What brand?”

Tony took a moment to reply, “Homemade.”

“His dad owns a bakery,” Lindsay said as Gob started to drive. “Tony makes the _best_ cookies.”

He couldn’t help but grin and say, “Yeah, they’re kinda my specialty.”

“Did you make any oatmeal raisin?” Gob asked.

“Just a few.”

“Oh, dibs!” Gob said, reaching a hand through the partition. “Give me one; they’re my favorite.” Taking a hand off the wheel caused the car to slide in one direction for a moment, Tony and Lindsay both sliding with it. Gob jerked the car back onto the road, causing the two of them to bump into each other.

“God _damn_ it, Gob, be _careful!”_  

Gob rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Linds.”

Tony handed Gob a cookie once he caught his balance again, his heart speeding in his chest as their fingers brushed.

 _Jesus fucking Christ_ , Tony needed some fucking help.

“Holy shit, this is so good,” Gob said. “You really made this? That’s awesome.”

Tony blushed, and when he realized he did that, he just blushed even _more._ “Um…thanks,” Tony mumbled.

Gob again reached a hand back to grab a cookie, yet again causing the car to jerk. Tony felt his stomach lurch, so, after Lindsay berated her brother again, Tony handed the container to Jesse. “You can keep it up there.”

“Thanks, man.”

“…Only four-ish hours to go?” Lindsay whispered cheerfully.

* * *

Thankfully, Gob started paying more attention to the road after that. Occasionally a song would come on that he would get so into that he’d seem to forget he was driving and Tony would briefly fear for his life, but, okay, it was kinda cute seeing him like that. Tony had been under the impression that Gob was, like, some cool and chill guy, but it became clear that Gob was _not_ like that. He was loud and rambunctious and energetic—

And, _fuck_ , that made Tony like him _more._

It truly didn’t make sense to him in the _least_ . Gob was so _weirdly_ not his type. He was unambitious and lazy and a total goofball—

And really cute.

But he was immature and living with his parents instead of going to college or something—

But those _dimples_.

God, Tony was so confused. Even as Gob and Jesse started going on about how they would never sell out like whatever band was playing on the radio, all Tony could think of was how Gob would need to actually _sell_ something before he sold out. And, yeah, he knew it was a bitchy thought that he wouldn’t necessarily voice aloud even if he _could_ speak in front of him, but it was _true._ And yet he _still liked him._ There was no reason to. No reason but his dumb dimples and freckles and the dumb hormones Tony had rushing through him at all times.

He hated being a teenager.

It was putting him in a weird mood. He looked out the window of the limo as they drove further into the middle of nowhere. He had never seen so much empty space; it was honestly kinda eerie. And _weird_ . And _definitely_ boring as all get out. God, what was even, like, the _point_ of places like this?

Reading a sign off the side of the road, Lindsay said, “‘If you lived here, you’d be home by now.’”

“And bored out of your mind,” Tony replied without thought. He brought a hand to his mouth, both amazed that he spoke and a little mad at himself for being kinda bitchy about it.

Surprisingly, Lindsay, Jesse, and Gob all laughed. “Good one, Tony,” Gob said. Tony mumbled a _thanks_ and ducked his head to hide the blush he could feel creeping on his cheeks.

He never blushed this much before Gob, by the way. _Ever._ It just added another layer of weirdness to the whole thing.

* * *

Eventually they made it far enough away from Newport and far enough away from any civilization whatsoever that the radio channels were basically all static. Gob said his CD player didn’t work and he hadn’t brought any tapes, so they just ended up sitting in silence. It was honestly kinda boring, but at least Tony had managed not to embarrass himself further.

“God, this person’s going so fucking _slow_ ,” Gob said under his breath. With only that as a warning, Gob quickly changed lanes on the two-way street they were on, the whole limo jerking with him. He sped up and flipped off the guy he’d been stuck behind with a laugh and went even faster before changing back into the right lane and speeding away from the slow driver.

Of course, while Gob and Jesse were perfectly fine, Lindsay and Tony were thrown in every direction with the jerking of the car, Tony nearly landing on top of Lindsay at one point. The swerving followed by speeding did _not_ help Tony’s motion sickness, that vague sense of nausea he had on and off for the whole car ride suddenly growing to an uncomfortable taste in his mouth.

Tony moved towards the back of the limo and tried (and failed) to open the window on the door. “Do any of these windows open up?” Tony asked.

“Sorry, man; they’re sealed shut,” Gob said.

Tony sighed and muttered to himself, “Of _course_ they are.” He brought his hands to his face and focused on breathing and swallowing all the extra saliva in his mouth.

After a few moments, Lindsay moved back to sit next to him. “Are you going to be okay?” Lindsay asked quietly. “If we need to pull over for a minute, we can.”

Tony shook his head. He didn’t want Gob to know that he couldn’t even handle a simple _drive_ or anything. He didn’t want him to know how _weak_ he could be. After a few more breaths, he lifted his head from his hands and told Lindsay, “I’m fine. It’s all good…but maybe I should move closer to the front again.” That was always less bumpy and usually helped his stomach problems.

“Okay…” Lindsay said, still looking concerned. Tony carefully got up, crouched over, and started to move closer to the front of the limo.

Only for Gob to run over some bump that bounced the whole limo and made Tony fall down on his ass. He was pretty sure he felt something wet underneath him.

“…Oh my god,” Tony whispered to himself.

“You okay?” Lindsay asked, sounding sympathetic despite obviously holding back a laugh. What? It _was_ kinda funny.

“Yeah. I totally meant to do that,” Tony said sarcastically, his face bright red.

“Next time can you _warn_ us?” Lindsay called out at her brother, who was looking between the road and something Jesse had in his hands.

“Shut up, Linds; I didn’t see it coming!”

“That’s why you’re supposed to watch the road! What are you even looking at?”

“…Our map,” Gob said.

Lindsay’s eyes slowly widened. “Don’t tell me you idiots got us lost.”

“We didn’t!” Gob said.

Jesse nodded. “No, we know exactly where we are.”

“Yeah!” After a pause, Gob admitted, “…We just may need to circle back because we kinda missed an exit.”

Lindsay glared at him. “And how far back was that exit?”

Gob didn’t want to say. But, after a moment, Jesse answered, “Like, half an hour ago?”

“…So we’ve lost, like, at least an hour. And you were already almost an hour late getting us. _Great.”_

“Hey, we’ll get there, okay?”

Lindsay rolled her eyes and looked back over at Tony, who had gotten on his knees and was facing away from her. She winced and leaned forward to whisper, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you got a mustard packet on your ass.” Tony looked over his shoulder at her and Lindsay clarified, “An exploded one.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Tony groaned quietly again, bringing his face to his hands.

“Leave it to Gob to have mustard in his car over literally anything else.” Lindsay quickly got the packet off of him and grimaced. “Yeah…that’s gonna stain.”

“Of _course_ it is,” Tony said. Why would he expect anything to go right on this day? He knew he should’ve stayed home or worked a shift at the bakery or done _anything_ but agree to this.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Lindsay said, trying to cheer him up as he sat back down on a seat. “It looks…alternative?”

* * *

Eventually they pulled over at a truck stop for gas, food, and a bit of a walking break. It was a truck stop they had already stopped at to get gas before, of course. And, of course, Tony managed to hit his head on the door frame on his way out. Lindsay winced at that and took his hand as he finished leaving the limo, closing the door behind him.

“You okay?” He nodded and rubbed his head with his free hand. Lindsay frowned. “You sure? You apparently woke up on the clumsy side of the bed today.”

“If anything, I put a hat on my bed or something,” Tony said, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Lindsay was looking at him with confusion. “It’s some old Italian superstition. I don’t get it, but my nonna always says that doing that or spilling olive oil will bring you loads of bad luck.”

“Well, yeah, that's messy and who wants to clean up an oil spill?” Lindsay asked. “Our government certainly won’t.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Good point.” Lindsay gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand before leading them to the restaurant inside where Gob and Jesse were waiting to be seated.

“Hey,” Gob said, with a nod of his head. His eyes lowered down to where Lindsay and Tony’s hands were still interlaced, but he soon got distracted when a hostess came to sit them at a table.

Lindsay tried at first to sit next to Jesse, but Gob gave her a weird look and sat next to his friend before she could. She held back a sigh and sat on the other side, Tony sliding in next to her. At least it forced Tony and Gob to sit directly across from each other.

Not that Tony was particularly in the right mood to attempt conversation with Gob. Normally, the sort of food this truck stop had would be the sort of thing Tony would go crazy for. He loved diner food, probably because it was so different from what he normally ate. But, as it was, the smell of the restaurant made his stomach churn.

So when the waitress came by, he ordered, "Dry toast and tea." She raised her eyebrows at him, but she didn’t say anything about it as she wrote his order down.

After Lindsay and Jesse ordered, Gob placed his order of a cheeseburger and fries. “Oh, and I should get some coffee to help make it the rest of the way,” Gob said.

“Want any cream or sugar?”

“I’d like it as hot and sweet as you are,” Gob said with a wink and a grin. While Lindsay rolled her eyes (and Tony may have resisted the urge to frown), the waitress giggled and nodded.

She gave them _very_ attentive service after that, coming back often to make sure Gob always had a full mug of coffee, even though he barely drank it and didn’t even seem to like it.

“So…you guys are heading out to that concert in Indio?” she asked at one point. Despite the question being open to everyone, she was only looking at Gob for the answer.

“No, we made a wrong turn on the way to Paris,” Tony said dryly.

The waitress glared at him while Lindsay, Jesse, and Gob all laughed. “Nice one,” Gob said appreciatively. Tony shyly smiled as the waitress left in a huff.

Lindsay frowned after a moment. “…She’s totally going to spit in our food now.”

* * *

After they finished eating, Lindsay gave the waitress her credit card and Gob and Jesse went to get them some water and find a map. The waitress came back quickly with the bill, apparently just wanting them to leave at that point, and as Lindsay filled out the receipt, Tony sighed.

“Is there any way I can just, like, hide out in the trunk for the rest of the ride?” Tony asked. “I’m sure it’d be even bumpier, but at least I wouldn’t embarrass myself.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if you wanna do that,” Lindsay said, her eyes still looking over the check. “Gob used to keep bees back there for a honey farm and I don’t think all of them left.”

“He did _what?”_

Lindsay shrugged. “Hey, I never said I understood my brother.” Tony sighed and put his head in his hands. Again, it did _not_ make sense why he liked this guy so much. It didn’t make sense that he couldn’t even _speak_ around him, or even function like a normal human being, apparently. Seriously, what the fuck was _wrong_ with him?

Lindsay finally put in her signature and closed the booklet. She looked over at Tony and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Okay, I may not understand him _completely,_ but I _do_ know that if he’s anything, it’s oblivious. I doubt he’s noticed, like, half the stuff that’s gone wrong. And, if he has, he definitely doesn’t care. There’s really no reason to be self-conscious around him.”

“How could he not see all of that? The mustard, the head bumping, the motion sickness—”

“The fact that you can’t even talk in front of him?”

Tony glared. “Thanks, Linds. I forgot about that part.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I should just stay here. Became a waiter at this crappy diner and get my thrills from random people flirting with me for the hell of it.”

Just then, the waitress happened to walk by to pick up the check. She glared at Tony before storming away. Tony groaned; he really didn't plan on being  _that_ mean about it, especially not where she could hear them.

Lindsay winced. “I’m _so_ glad we already ate; imagine what she’d do to our food if you had said _that_ before we ordered.” She pushed Tony to slip out of the booth and then slid out after him.

“Okay, so, first of all, I want to say that Gob just flirts with anything that moves. It’s how he communicates. I’m not sure he realizes he’s doing it half the time,” Lindsay said.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I’m not upset about that or anything.”

Lindsay arched an eyebrow. “Don’t try to lie to me, Wunderlich.” Tony rolled his eyes again, but nodded. Fine, it _had_ made him a little jealous. It wasn’t like he really thought he had a _chance_ with Gob or like he knew what he’d do if he _did_ have a chance with him, but still, it wasn’t fun seeing someone you were crushing on so hard flirting with someone else. “Anyways, like I said, the guy’s oblivious. You really need to just calm down about all of this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said. Regardless, it was still embarrassing. Even knowing he had made a fool of himself in front of Lindsay made him uncomfortable. Despite how close they had gotten already, the friendship still _was_ really new. He didn’t want to mess _that_ up either.

“If you need help relaxing, I’m sure Gob has some edibles around in there _somewhere_. I bet he planned on getting stoned at the concert. Him and/or Jesse.”

Tony shook his head. He had only tried pot a couple of times when Angie had dragged him to parties back in New York and it always made him laugh too much and say stupid shit. “I don’t need anything else to make me look like an idiot.”

Just then, the two saw Gob and Jesse trying on ridiculous hats that the truck stop had and laughing like idiots.

Lindsay sighed. “Yeah. We don’t need any _other_ idiots on this trip.”

* * *

Okay, maybe that waitress really  _had_ done something to their meals.

Tony kept wondering if she had, because he felt worse than he had the whole day. Maybe it was the heat—even though the windows were tinted a darker color, the sun was at its most powerful, and rolling up the sleeves of his jacket didn’t really help. The lack of fresh air didn’t help matters, and there was only so much A/C could do.

Still, he was determined to make it out and keep a stiff upper lip and all of that bullshit. He’d be fine. All he had to do was stay calm, breathe, and, in a few more hours, the only vomit he’d be around would belong to the other concert goers.

Okay, thinking about them possibly throwing up wasn’t helping. And, again, neither was Gob’s driving. Tony thought it was pretty miraculous they hadn’t been pulled over yet, but maybe it only seemed so bad because he was in the back. Regardless, it felt bumpy and swerve-y to him, and even though Gob gave them a warning at one point, a bump in the road made Tony bring a hand to his mouth. He was starting to feel very dizzy.

Lindsay kept an eye on Tony, her eyes growing more concerned as his face became paler and greener. She was almost thankful when they reached a traffic standstill, even if Gob groaned in frustration and slammed on the brakes way too suddenly once they reached it.

Lindsay leaned her head towards the partition and saw what looked like at _least_ half a mile of packed cars. That was California for you. She turned to Tony and suggested, “Why don’t you get some air? We’re going to be here for a _long_ time—”

Tony didn’t need more convincing. He shot out of the limo as fast as he could. Unfortunately, the motionless, desert air and his quick moving didn’t help matters. He spotted some bushes and, making a break for it, he managed to land on his knees behind one in time for the little he had at lunch to violently come back up his throat.

Once he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the sun beating down hard on the back of his neck. _Great._ He looked down at his sweatshirt and noticed some of his vomit had landed on there. _Awesome._ Finally, Tony looked back over at the limo and realized he hadn’t closed the door behind him, meaning everyone had to have heard him throw up.

_Just_

**_Fucking_ **

**_Perfect._ **

Tony weighed his options. He could just stay there and pray that the world would swallow him up. He could run off and hope he was never found. He could start walking back to that truck stop and try to hitchhike home, because being murdered sounded like a better idea than going back to the limo. He wasn’t ruling out _any_ of those options.

But, eventually, Tony felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Lindsay there holding a water bottle. “Here,” she said kindly, handing it to him. “Just, like, swish some around your mouth for a little while first.”

Tony shook his head, too embarrassed to want to take any help. “I’m fine.”

Of course, Lindsay didn’t take no for an answer. She gave him a look that reminded him of the only time he had met her mom, which was kinda intimidating. Then she told him, “Your teeth will thank you—trust me.” Crossing her arms, she reminded him, “I used to do this stuff on purpose, remember? The least you can do is make my suffering worth it by taking my advice.”

A withering look _and_ guilt all at once? “You’re gonna be a great mom one day,” Tony said with a sigh. He took the bottle and poured some water into his mouth, swishing it around for awhile just like Lindsay said, before spitting it back out.

“Thanks,” he said as he finally got off the ground. He wiped some dirt off his knees and said, “At least I probably won’t throw up again since it’s all, like, out of my system.”

Lindsay nodded and took his hand to lead him back to the limo. But Tony refused to move right away. She looked over at him expectedly and his eyes darted nervously to the limo and back to her.

“…How much did your brother hear?” Tony whispered. There was no point pretending he cared what that Jesse guy thought about him.

“…Everything,” Lindsay admitted quietly. Tony groaned. “Come _on,_ Tony; it’s not a big deal. Buster gets carsick all the time, and Michael once threw up on my shoes when we were driving around London.”

“Because that’s exactly who I want to remind you guys of,” Tony mumbled. Still, he let Lindsay pulled him back to the limo and, after only a moment of hesitation, he climbed back in. After being outside, the A/C actually felt really cold in a good way.

He crossed his arms, waiting for Gob or Jesse to make some sort of crack about what had just happened. But, instead, Gob reached through the partition and stretched out his hand. “Want a Mento?”

“The Freshmaker!” Jesse said brightly.

Tony looked at the tube of mints and, after some hesitation, said, “Uh, thanks.” He took one and popped it into his mouth.

“No problem,” Gob said casually, pulling his arm back and looking back at the road in front of him. “God, why aren’t we _moving?”_

Tony looked at Lindsay, kind of confused. Quietly, he asked, “…They’re not gonna make fun of me?” He knew his family would totally roast him, or at least Daniel would. Lizzie, too. His mom and Chiara would fuss over him and just make him more embarrassed in the process. Angie would probably be the only one he could stand in that situation, since she’d try to take his mind off of it by joking around with him about something. 

“I told you, it’s not a big deal,” Lindsay said. She snorted and, in a slightly louder voice, explained, “Gob may have the Bluth tolerance, but he used to throw up, like, every weekend.”

Gob heard that and laughed. “Yeah, I used to be such a fucking _pussy._ It only took, like, seven shots before I’d throw up. _So_ embarrassing.”

Tony was sure that _had_ to be an exaggeration, especially since he was pretty positive that Gob wasn’t even 21 yet. But he actually _did_ relax once he realized they really _weren’t_ going to make fun of him.

He leaned back in his seat and looked down at his sweatshirt. The smell of the small amount of vomit on it was _not_ going to help him out. With a sigh, he finally unzipped his jacket and pulled it off, tossing it towards the back of the limo. And, okay, he should’ve done that _hours_ ago, because he instantly felt better.

And he only felt better than that when Gob’s eyes landed on his shirt through the rearview mirror. “Holy shit, man, you like Queen?” Gob asked excitedly.

“Uh, yeah. They’re one of my favorites,” Tony said, nervously pulling at an earring.

Gob twisted around completely to face him. “They’re the _best,_ right?” Tony nodded and Gob grinned. “Dude, like, _no one_ your age knows them! Or they just know the _Wayne’s World_ scene.”

Tony laughed, slightly nervous. “I mean, I _do_ like that scene. But I guess between my parents and older siblings, I just learned about them. My oldest sister is nearly ten years older than me and my older brother is eight years older, so…” Tony shrugged. They were at a pretty good age to have grown up with Queen’s hits in the ‘80s.

“What’s your favorite album?” Gob asked. “Mine’s _A Night at the Opera._ It’s seriously one of the best structured albums of _all time.”_

“I love that one,” Tony said, not even thinking about how nervous he _should_ be. “That or _A Day at the Races,_ probably. Though I think _The Miracle_ is unfairly hated.” Gob nodded along in agreement and, after a beat, Tony added, “Oh, but the most unfairly hated album of all time is—”

 _“Hot Space!”_ Gob and Tony said at the same time. Both of them laughed, Tony suddenly not feeling nervous at all.

“It has some of the best beats and bass parts in the whole history of music,” Gob said.

Tony nodded in agreement. “Totally! And I _love_ David Bowie, so obviously ‘Under Pressure’ is one of my all time favorite songs.”

“Ugh, so good!” Gob said in agreement.

“Yeah, even Vanilla Ice can’t ruin that song; _that’s_ how good it is.”

Lindsay laughed while Gob groaned. “Vanilla Ice is, like, Gob’s number one enemy.”

“He’s the _worst!_ I can’t believe he tried to claim he came up with that!” Gob said.

The conversation flowed easily from that point on, Tony smiling more than he had in a long time.

* * *

They were (finally) only about ten minutes max from Alternapalooza when the engine started making a weird sound. Gob pulled to the side of the road and they all went out to check it out. It soon became clear that none of them knew what they were doing, though, and all their attempts to get things running again failed.

Tony should’ve known his luck would run out.

“Can’t believe I didn’t bring my cell phone,” Gob grumbled. “It’s just so bulky that I never think about it.”

Lindsay looked thoughtful. “There’s a noise wall up there; there’s gotta be houses behind it, right?”

“Makes sense,” Jesse agreed.

She turned to him and asked, “Wanna come with me to see if we can get some help?” When Jesse agreed, Lindsay held out her hand to Gob. “Triple-A card, Gob?” He fished for his wallet and pulled the gold card out for her, placing it in her hand. “Cool. You guys wait here and watch the car.” She smirked at Tony and quietly told him, “Great plan, huh?”

Tony really _did_ need to strangle her at some point. It was one thing to talk about Queen and other bands they liked in a group setting, but sitting one-on-one with him and trying to have a conversation? Tony nervously started to tug at his earring again as he watch Lindsay and Jesse walked away.

* * *

 

Gob sighed. “This _sucks."_ Lindsay and Jesse had been gone for a while at that point. Tony was kinda worried some  _Children of the Corn_ bullshit had happened to them, which didn't help his anxiety from the whole day.

After a beat, Tony agreed, “Uh, yeah. Kinda.”

“Yeah. I bet today sucks even worse for you,” Gob said. Tony felt his stomach churn; Lindsay must’ve been wrong about her brother being oblivious, since he obviously seemed to have seen everything.

“…Yeah…” Tony said under his breath, looking down at the ground.

“I mean, it’s gotta suck to see your girlfriend so obviously interested in another guy,” Gob said, pulling at a blade of grass.

Wait, _what?_

“It’s kinda weird of her, though; like, she’ll flirt with other guys all the time, but I never thought she’d be so _obvious_ about it when she was dating someone.”

“What are you talking about?”

Gob raised his eyebrows at Tony. “Lindsay has totally been hitting on Jesse, like, the whole day? Like, suggesting they should sit together and stuff? And now she even got him to go look for help with her. I promise my sister isn’t normally _that_ slutty.”

“But…what?” Tony shook his head. “Gob, we’re not dating.”

“…You aren’t?”

“No. She’s just my friend.”

“…But you’ve been, like, holding hands? And you’re always over and hiding out in her room…”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh for a moment. “Yeah, just doing friend stuff. She’s normally doing art and I’m, like, reading or watching TV. We’re _just_ friends. Trust me, I’m not interested in her that way or vice versa.”

“Oh,” Gob said quietly. He laughed and said, “That’s a relief. Like, I know Jesse would never try anything with her ‘cause the bro code and all, so it wasn’t a big deal, but, yeah, that’s a relief.”

“Yeah, your sister isn’t a cheater.”

“Not just that. It’s good to know you’re not dating, ‘cause I’m, like, legally obligated to hate whoever dates my baby sister, y’know? And I don’t hate you,” Gob said.

Tony felt his face heat up. “Really?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged and simply said, “I can’t hate anyone who loves and knows that much about Queen.”

“Right.” Tony smiled from ear-to-ear, avoiding looking at Gob.

The two of them were silent for a little while and the sun started to set. Eventually, Gob sighed. “God, I wish I brought my guitar or something. Could’ve entertained both of us.”

Tony nodded, crossing his arms to help warm himself up. The desert really _did_ turn cold when the sun started to set. “How long have you been playing?”

“Just a couple of years.”

“What else do you play?”

“I know some bass—upright and electric—and I’m not too bad on the drums, but I can’t sing and play at the same time yet. Also ukulele.” After a beat, Gob added, “And piano, obviously. Started that when I was four.”

Tony nodded again. “Yeah…Lindsay said you got into Juilliard.”

“Yep.”

“…Why didn’t you go?” Tony asked. He let out a soft laugh and said, “I couldn’t imagine turning down going to New York. I miss it there so much.”

“You’re from there?” Gob asked.

“Yeah. Well, Long Island, but I’d go to the city a lot,” Tony said. “We just moved here this summer. My family, I mean.”

Gob nodded. “That explains the accent. And why Linds never talked about you before. Well, that and the whole cheerleader thing.” After a moment, Gob sighed and answered Tony’s question, “I don’t like how cold it got. It snowed during my audition, which…” Gob laughed under his breath before admitting, “It was kinda cool to see. I’d never seen it snow before.”

“Really?” Tony exclaimed. He couldn’t imagine never seeing it.

“Yeah. I’d seen snow, like, on the ground before. We’ve been to a couple of ski lodges and stuff, but it never actually _snowed_ there.” Gob laughed again and said, “I didn’t think about bringing gloves or anything, so it kinda sucked. But I _did_ end up doing the whole tasting snowflakes thing and made a snowman and stuff. That was pretty cool.” Tony smiled; he hadn’t done that stuff in years, but Gob made it sound so fun. “But I kept falling on the ice and stuff and I don’t know, it didn’t seem like the place for me. New York’s so, like, fast-moving and uptight—no offense.”

“It’s cool,” Tony said. Even he could admit that was a sucky part of the city he loved so much. He could even admit that he kinda liked how chill California was in comparison. You know, at times. “But aren’t there schools out here you can go to?"

Gob shrugged. “I doubt I have the grades for them,” he said, starting to pull up at blades of grass again. “And I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that. You know, classical stuff. I love playing it, but I love rock and stuff more.”

Well, that made sense, at least.

“…I wonder if I made a huge mistake, though.” Gob said that so quietly that Tony briefly thought he hadn’t said anything at all. “You know, turning down Juilliard and the other places that took me.” Gob continued to pull at the grass, not looking at Tony as he spoke. “I’d never seen my mom so proud of me. And even though my dad hates that stuff, even  _he_ was impressed…” Even though Gob wasn’t looking at him, Tony could tell how downcast his face looked. “I’d never impressed them before. Definitely haven’t since.”

They both sat in silence again as Tony tried to figure out what to say. He hadn’t expected Gob to open up to him like that. It was weirdly nice that Gob trusted him that much, but Tony wasn’t always the best at being comforting or warm or whatever.

Finally, Tony said, “You know, I think it’s brave to pursue what you wanna do instead of just doing what others want you to do. And, even if it doesn’t work out, you can always go do classical later on. You still practice that stuff, don’t you?”

Though he hesitated, Gob nodded. “Yeah. ‘Cause I _do_ like it.”

“Right. Well, it’s never too late to change. And at least you’re doing what you want to do right now.”

Tony looked back up at Gob and, slowly, the other man smiled at him. “Yeah, that’s true. You’re right.” Tony couldn’t help but smile back; he couldn’t believe he had caused Gob to smile like that. _He_ was the one who made those dimples show up again. It made his heart flutter like he was in some pop song or some bullshit. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.”

“It’s kinda hard to believe you’re in high school.”

“Yeah?” Tony chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I find it hard to believe that I am, to.”

“Yeah. I’m glad Lindsay found you,” Gob said. He looked thoughtful for a few moments. “She seems so much happier now. Now that she’s not trying to impress our mom or fit in the smallest cheerleading uniform. And I think she’s been doing even better since you two became friends.”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to admit that _he_ was definitely doing better since he met her. She was his first _real_ friend, at least out of people he wasn’t related to, and that day alone proved how much she really did care for him, even if she liked teasing him, too. But, again, he couldn't get himself to admit that, because his feelings just weren't something he liked to share. He _did_ manage to say, “I’m glad. She’s the best. She's…my best friend.”

“Yeah.” Gob tilted his head a little and gave Tony an approving look. “You’re pretty cool.”

“…Thanks,” Tony said, ducking his head again to hide how much he was smiling.

Barely a minute later, Jesse and Lindsay came back. “No houses. Just corn. Lots and lots of corn. And the corn wasn’t very helpful.”

“Helpful Corn!” Jesse said. “That could be our band name, right?”

“I guess that's better than sounding like we just jerk each other off, huh, Tony?” Gob joked, giving him a wink in the process.

Tony was very grateful it was dark enough that his blush couldn’t have been noticeable.

“You know, I have to second Michael’s question on that. Because, like, your mascot is a banana and everything, so are _you_ guys bananas?"

"I don't know."

"Why would a banana grab another banana?” Lindsay asked as Jesse went back to the engine.

“Shut up!” 

“It’s a valid question!”

The two of them bickered about it as Tony finally stood back up. He wondered what they could do to get some help. Did they just have to walk over to the festival? There _had_ to be phones there, but who knew how long it would take to get there?

“Hey, guys! I think I know how to fix it!” Jesse said suddenly. “Anyone have any glue?”

A few minutes later, Lindsay had glued together two pieces of the engine back together with some of her extra strength eyelash glue. Gob turned the key in the ignition and the engine ran smoothly.

“Ha! I’m so glad I brought extra,” Lindsay said, waving the eyelash glue around gleefully.

“Careful!” Tony said as it came much too close to his face for his comfort. “I don’t want anything that can glue an engine together near _my_ eyes.”

“Hey! Let’s get going so we can catch some of the show!” Gob called out from the limo.

* * *

Apparently, they were too late for that. They had just parked when they saw crowds of people leaving the venue. “Maybe they just don’t like the last act? Or they’re tired?” Lindsay said hopefully.

Gob stopped three people, one of them being held up by the other two. “Is the concert over?”

“Yeah. Ended earlier than expected. Major bummer,” one of them said.

The one being held up in the center giggled. “Nah, man. It was _awesome.”_ He smelled even more like pot than Gob’s limo had.

“Sorry. Our friend’s a little…out of it,” the other guy said. He cleared his throat to get the other sober guy’s attention and jerked his head towards the side. The friend nodded and the three of them walked away.

“… _Fuck._ ” Gob sighed loudly. “Let’s go home, I guess.”

“I can’t believe today was a total waste!” Lindsay exclaimed as she started heading back to the limo. “And this outfit, too! I look so hot and for what? Nothing!”

Jesse opened up the passenger’s side and Gob said, “Hey, let Tony have that spot.”

Tony gave him a confused look. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Gob said. “You know, so you don’t get sick again.” Ugh. Tony didn’t want to be reminded of that. But then Gob smiled and said, “And so we can talk some more about music.”

Jesse shrugged. “Gives me more room to lay down anyways.”

Tony smiled as Jesse headed to the back. He slid into the passenger’s seat and gladly put on his seatbelt once the door was closed.

“So,” Gob started once he started the car. “As a New Yorker, you have to love Billy Joel, right?"

"As a half-Jewish, half-Catholic hybrid from New York, yeah, I'm basically required by  _law_ to love Billy Joel."

They didn’t end up talking too much on the way back. Gob was doing his best to watch where he was going so they wouldn’t get lost, and Tony was pretty sure he was also doing his best to be more careful with swerving and stuff so Tony wouldn’t get sick again, which he really appreciated. Tony was fine with that; he just kept on smiling ot himself at the fact that he could actually talk to Gob now.

And as Lindsay discreetly looked at her best friend and brother from the back where she pretended to be sleeping, she smiled. Maybe the day hadn’t been a waste after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you guys liked this! And sorry it took so much longer, I wanted to get the piano fic chapter up and work got busy so. Ugh. Sorry about that. 
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is probably going to be the closest beat-for-beat to the episode it's based on (this one being "Road Worrier", 1x11), but I did my best to mess around with some of the things. Anyone who's seen the show/ep will note some obvious differences, and not just his family lol. A few other notes:
> 
> -Sorry I repeat headcanons and even similar conversations between Blunder from story to story ;alskdfj I'm trying to make this one different, I promise!! I'm also doing my best to not just repeat the same exact jokes from the show, but some of them are too iconic to not use.  
> -I lived in New York for a few years as a kid during the time frame of this fic/the show, and our school buses DID have seatbelts. Idk why. But I assume it's a New York thing, so I decided to include it :P  
> -I am very curious as to how many of you have seen Daria? It's fine whether you have or haven't, but you should let me know! I'm just interested if anyone who hasn't seen the show wanted to read this. And I'm very interested in figuring out how many of you haven't seen the show might give it a chance now!  
> -If you haven't seen the show, I hope you got a kick out of the Mystik Spiral classic, "Icebox Woman" that I linked lol. I couldn't resist keeping that!  
> -Just because I put that this chapter is based on "Road Worrier", I'll clarify that obviously the first chapter is loosely based off of episode 1x01, "Esteemers". Unfortunately, we never saw Daria meet Trent for the first time, so it was fun imagining both one of my first OTPs, Daria/Trent, and then Blunder, one of my current top OTPs, meeting for the first time in this verse! I'm totally enjoying Tony being the total lovesick one this time around!
> 
> Anyways, thank you to any and everyone who is reading this. I'd really love to know what you guys think—hopefully good things!! <3


	3. Not If You're Diabetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on "Arts 'N Crass" (2x01)  
> Trigger warning for talks of eating disorders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So you see, girls, I don't want to change the intent of the poster, I just want to make it more palatable. You know what they say: 'A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.'"  
> "Not if you're diabetic."  
> -Mr. O'Neill and Jane Lane, "Arts 'N Crass" (2x01)

 

Ever since Tony and Angela reached a certain age, their dad had them working at the family bakery a reasonable amount of time. While either himself, their mother, Chiara, and/or Daniel would always be there to supervise, Angela or Tony were trained to help. That normally involved the simpler stuff: ringing out customers, refilling coffee of anyone who chose to eat their orders in, and other things along those lines. Sometimes they’d have to help with the baking process—they could always particularly count on Tony for his cookies and Angela for her croissants or pies—but usually they just had to sit at the front counter. Most of the time they could do their homework in between customers. They got to sneak in some bites of free pastries along the way and, again, got paid, so they couldn’t really complain. 

There were only two things about the job that sucked. One was that, due to the hours of operation molded to grab the 9 to 5 workers’ attention, the bakery wasn’t open too late on weekdays. That was fine in theory, since it meant less work during the weekdays, but it also meant they would get their hours on the weekend. You know, instead of getting time with friends or having time off from both school _and_ work. 

The other unfortunate part was that they often worked opposing schedules. They normally really only needed one of them at a time and couldn’t afford to pay both of them to work, so it made sense, but it also meant that time they could spend together hanging out was drastically reduced. When they were younger, Angela and Tony were rather inseparable, and they were obviously still close—probably the closest of the siblings besides the twins—but it was hard to find time to hang out between Angela’s ever-popular social life and their opposing work schedules.

Back when they lived in New York, Tony would normally hang out at the bakery during Angela’s shifts. Sometimes Angela would do the same, but she was often busy during his shifts, either with a date or plans with friends or an after-school activity. You know, the stuff Tony never really had going on. Anyways, ever since they started working, that was the way they found the time to hang out as siblings/best friends. Since, no matter what, Angela always insisted that Tony was her best friend and she was Tony’s.

Well, she _had_ been Tony’s. Now Tony had _Lindsay._

And, okay, Angela was mature. She could handle sharing her brother. And, truly, she was happy that Tony had someone he had bonded with so much. She had hated seeing how isolated he was growing up, despite the fact that he had always said he was fine with it. Tony could claim he liked being alone as much as he wanted, but Angela knew that, deep down, Tony wanted at least one person who got him besides his sister.

So, yes, Angela was happy that Lindsay came along and she was happy that Tony was happy. Or, well, _happier_ , since he wasn’t necessarily sunshine and rainbows all of a sudden, but whatever. Regardless, it was nice to see.

Angela just missed having Tony around during her shifts, that’s all. She hadn’t realized how dull working a full day at the bakery could be when her Tonio wasn’t there to make sarcastic comments for at least a couple of hours. 

That was why she was looking forward to their school’s fall break. Well, it was _one_ of the reasons she was looking forward to it. Anyways, their break meant they didn’t have school, and since they didn’t have school, they both were going to work so Chiara and Daniel could take some time off. It was what they did every time a school break came around, and those tended to be the only time the two of them got to work together. And they _always_ had too much fun working together.

So, yes, Angela hated getting up at, like, five AM so she could be ready in time to work in the morning when all of her friends got to sleep in, but it was nice finally having some time with Tony outside of family dinners and their walks to school.

On the first day of break, after the 9-to-5-ers had swooped in for their breakfast, Angela and Tony did the usual clean-up: wiping up the counter and tables, rearranging the display pastries, all that jazz. By ten, the two of them were sitting on opposite sides of the counter and laughing about one of the customers who had come in.

“I can’t believe she asked if _croissants_ are _fat-free,”_ Tony said. “God, only in California, huh?”

“Wait until they catch onto the low-carb trend,” Angela replied with a laugh. In an imitation of a Valley Girl, she asked, “Is this bread low-carb?”

“How do you pronounce that? Is it ch-allah?” Tony asked in his own imitation back, purposefully pronouncing the bread incorrectly. 

“See, you joke now, but I think half the cheerleaders would say it that way,” she said. “I love them, but the mixture of their WASP upbringings and their IQs…it’s a mess.”

Tony shook his head, still smiling slightly. “I _seriously_ don’t get why you hang out with them.”

“They’re still fun and we have stuff in common,” Angela said simply. This was a conversation they had had multiple times over the past few years. 

“Whatever you say, Angie.” Tony never got Angela’s “popular” clique. He got why they all liked her, because she was fun and interesting and, yeah, pretty and everything, but he never got why she liked _them._ He _definitely_ didn’t get why she also would work so hard on being popular, either, but that was another story.

“You should give some of them a chance. Really,” Angela said. “You know who you’d actually _really_ get along with?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “What kind of ‘get along with’ do you mean?” Yet another conversation they had had over the years was Angela setting him up with both guys and girls as potential friends _and_ dates.

“I could see you getting along with her as a friend _and_ as more than friends.”

Tony doubted it, but he asked, “Who?”

“Sally Sitwell.” 

“You’re joking, right?” Tony asked immediately with a scoff. “She’s _so_ not my type.”

“What do you mean? She’s pretty, for one. And she’s actually _really_ smart. Like, Lizzie level smart—but not so obnoxious about it.” Okay, making fun of Lizzie like that was always a way to get Tony to laugh. “She’s also super sarcastic, like you, but still really sweet.”

 _“And_ she lied about my best friend to get her kicked off the cheerleading team,” Tony retorted. True, it wasn’t a _complete_ lie, but it was still an awful thing to do. And Angela didn’t know it was slightly truthful, anyways.

After a beat, Angela said, “So, in a way, if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t even be _friends_ with Lindsay.”

“…Okay, you have a point. Still, I’d be stabbing my friend in the back if I even considered it,” Tony said.

Angela held back a sigh and nodded. “Alright then.”

“Okay.” 

Their conversation went back to normal after that, the two of them making fun of customers they’d had and joking around. It was really starting to feel like the old times, when, suddenly, the door opened, the little bell ringing as an alert that someone was there.

Angela hopped off the counter and started the spiel, “Hello, welcome to Wunder-ful Bread—oh…”

Tony hopped off the counter and greeted, “Linds! Hey, you made it!”

“Hey,” she said back before looking around the bakery. “Nice place,” she commented. She looked over at Angela and said, “Nice apron.”

“Thanks,” Angela said tensely. “So…can we help you with anything?”

“Tony just suggested I come and visit to help keep him entertained,” Lindsay said. 

_“Oh.”_

“Yeah, I thought she might be able to get some get sketches in, too. The weirdos always show up closer to lunch time,” Tony said.

“That’s true,” Angela said, crossing her arms. 

Lindsay said, “Sweet.” 

“You want anything?” Tony asked. “We have coffee, all the stuff in the display case, and we’ll have some more stuff coming up in a bit.”

“Just coffee for now,” Lindsay said, pulling out her credit card. “Start a tab for me,” she joked. Tony left her card at the register and poured her a mug.

Once she had her coffee, Tony suggested she sit at a table and he followed her over and sat down next to her. Angela cleared her throat. “Tonio? We’re supposed to be working?”

Tony gave her a look. It wasn't like they had been working before. “Why don’t you join us? There’s nothing to do right now, anyways, Angie.”

“Yeah, come on Angie,” Lindsay said.

Angela’s eyes narrowed; only Tony was allowed to call her that name. Most people would've assumed it was an accident, but Angela was sure that Lindsay did that on purpose. And, even if she didn't, it wasn't doing her any favors. And it wasn't doing _Tony_ any favors that he remained silent. 

“No, thanks. I think I’ll see if dad needs help in the back.”

Tony raised his eyebrows but said, “Okay.” Without a second thought, he went back to talking to Lindsay as Angela went back to the kitchen and started helping her dad with the bread.

She suddenly felt the need to pound on some dough.

* * *

Lindsay didn’t like people thinking she was crazy or anything.

She was sure that was considered normal. Because _she_ was normal. She was just a normal teenage girl. So, yeah, maybe she had some body issues, and, yeah, she had even been honest with her best friend, Tony, about having those issues. She didn’t see the point of hiding that from him.

But she _wasn’t_ crazy. She didn’t need help. She had made herself throw up a handful of times after binging, sure, but that was it. She was over it. She had pizza with Tony all the time and they ate lunch together, so it wasn’t a big deal or anything. Not at all. And she hadn't purged in a long time because, again, it wasn't a big deal.

Anyways, Tony was hanging out late one day. The two of them had lost track of time, but then his mom called (much to his embarrassment) to ask if he was coming home for dinner. Not thinking anything of it, Lindsay said, “You can join us if you want.”

“You sure?” Tony asked, not wanting to be rude.

“Yeah, why not?” Lindsay said. “My parents won’t care, even if they actually join us for dinner, which is _highly_ unlikely.”

Of course, that meant it had to be the first time in _weeks_ that Lindsay’s mom happened to be joining them for dinner. Lindsay almost wanted to tell Tony to run when she saw her, but seeing as she only found out when they walked into the dining room, it was a little too late for that.

Tony could tell that her friend was nervous when they sat down. He whispered to her, “I’ll be fine; I don’t take anything she says personally.” He had learned quickly to just shake off Lucille’s comments, or fire some back. Tony was actually pretty proud of the looks he had gotten from her after firing a comment right back at her.

Lindsay, however, just shook her head briefly, her mouth in a tight line as Rosa put their food on the table. “Thanks, Rosa,” Lindsay said quietly, meekly. Rosa gave her a nod and, much to Tony’s confusion, briefly put a comforting hand on her shoulder. He had seen her be rather affectionate with Gob, but not with Lindsay.

“Thanks for letting me stay for dinner, Mrs. Bluth,” Tony said. Even though she hadn’t been asked for permission or anything, he felt like he should thank her regardless.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Lucille said. “But I'd suggest that you  get as much as you can right away, before it all gets eaten," she continued, her eyes landing on her daughter.

“Mom!” Michael said sharply. Lindsay nervously tucked some hair behind her ear and looked down at her plate and Tony raised his eyebrows. 

“What? I’m just concerned,” Lucille said innocently. “Now that Lindsay’s not cheering, she needs to watch what she eats. She’s not getting the same amount of exercise, so she can't eat everything like she sued to. Not that she could even eat as much as she did _then."_

Tony wanted to say something, but he was frankly too stunned to do so. How could anyone imply that Lindsay of all people was fat?

“I run every day,” Lindsay said quietly in her defense.

“If you say so.”

“You’re just normally sleeping off a hangover when I do it,” Lindsay added, smirking slightly at her burn. Tony chuckled under his breath and Gob did, too, giving his sister an approving look.

Lucille’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but Michael quickly changed the subject before anything else could happen. He still shot his twin sister looks every now and then, as did Gob and Tony. He couldn’t help but notice that his friend, victorious last word or not, wasn’t really eating much.

Once dinner ended and Lucille and Buster were out of the room, Michael quickly asked Lindsay, “Are you okay?”

“I’m _fine,”_ Lindsay said. “There’s no reason to make it a big deal; I’m used to it. I just wish she wouldn’t say that in front of my friends.”

Tony looked at her sympathetically, really unsure as what he should say. He knew her mom was bitchy, but he never expected _that._ “You know she’s totally wrong about what she said, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Just…” Lindsay stood up quickly, “Can one of you guys take Tony home? I need to go for a run until I forget about her…and I didn’t this morning, so…” She looked back over at Tony and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tony said, even though he didn’t feel like he should really leave her like that.

“I’ll make sure Rosa saves the leftovers,” Michael said.

“She always does,” Lindsay said before heading up to her room to change.

As Michael went to check on their maid, Gob looked over at Tony. “Guess I’ll be driving you.” He stood up and told Tony, “Don’t worry; I have better A/C in my car than the limo.”

Soon the two of them were in the car, and Tony saw Lindsay leave her house in running gear, headphones on as they pulled out of the driveway. Tony watched her run in the opposite direction, steadily picking up speed as she rounded a corner.

After a small silence, Tony asked Gob, “Is your mom always that bad about what Lindsay eats?”

“Not always, but often," Gob said. “Twisted part is Lindsay’s clearly her second favorite.”

“Really? Then who’s her _least_ favorite?” Tony couldn’t imagine anyone getting treated _worse_ than Lindsay at that point.

Gob snorted. “That’d be me.” Tony was _very_ confused; she had barely made any comments Gob’s way. As if sensing Tony’s confusion, Gob said, “There’s nothing worse than being useless in her book. And I’ve never been anything but useless to her, especially after I turned down Juilliard. It’s kinda nice just being ignored by her now; I think she still sees potential in the others, which is why she’s mean to them.”

Tony looked concerned, but Gob went on. “Lindsay’s been doing better, though. With everything. But I’ll be watching out…Lots of times after dinners like that, she’d go out for a run and then come back and eat, like, everything and then…” Gob made a gesture with his finger toward his mouth that illustrated the point well enough.

Tony winced. “Yeah…”

“Michael and I try to watch for it, though. We haven’t had to for a while, but it always bugged her more when people were there. At least it was, y’know, _you,_ and not one of the cheerleaders or something. Those were always the roughest, since she didn't trust many of them in the first place.” 

“Yeah."

“…Mom’s always been hard on her about her looks. It’s why she got a nose job a few years ago as a birthday gift,” Gob said simply. 

Huh. Tony didn’t know about that. 

“To be honest, she looks a lot better now. She kinda looked like a bird before she got it done. Like a falcon or something, too, not a dove or anything like that.” After a pause, Gob said, “Shit, I probably shouldn’t have told you that."

Tony shrugged. “I knew tons of kids who got theirs done back in New York; it’s not a big deal.” 

And that part really _wasn’t_ a big deal. Still, when Tony got back home, he found himself worrying about his friend and all the insecurities she had.

And he really hoped that Michael and Gob hadn’t had to stop her from falling back into bad habits.

* * *

“It’s cool that we get to have a class together,” Angela said. Even though they were only a year apart, the two of them rarely had classes together. Their parents always pushed them to take hard academic classes, so they weren’t in each other’s grade levels for that, and their electives choices rarely aligned, either. But when they were scheduling classes at Balboa High School, they took advantage of the quarter system and the schedule change to get an elective together.

Tony nodded. “I still think we should’ve done that cooking class, though.”

“We have to bake _all the time_ already.”

“Exactly. It would’ve been such an easy A.”

Angela snorted and shook her head. “I like to have a break from that in the school day, thank you very much.”

“True,” Tony agreed. Unlike their older siblings, as much as they didn’t mind baking, neither of them wanted to make a career of that. Both of their interests also fell into arts classes more than baking, anyways. While Tony wasn’t sure what he wanted to pursue for sure—and he didn’t think a teenager should’ve been forced to make that decision—he _did_ have an interest in visual art. He had already signed up for the photography class offered in the next quarter, which was his real interest when it came to art, but he was excited to take this painting class, too.

“I love how many art classes they offer here,” Angela said. 

“Yeah, they definitely offer more than our old school,” Tony said. He was still hesitant to admit that he actually liked their Californian school over their New York one, but seeing as he actually had a friend at his current school, well, it won hands down. “Still sucks that we don’t get the High Holy Days off.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Must you find negatives in _everything?”_ They both stopped and looked at each other and she laughed a second later. “Okay, dumb question.” Tony smiled at that and they kept on walking. “It _does_ suck. I know we’re not that religious, but having the days off for Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah _was_ great.”

“Exactly. Now if we want to take them off, we’ll have work to make-up the next day,” he said with a slight sigh. 

“It _totally_ feels like a violation of religious freedom,” Angela said. Tony had no idea if she was serious or not, but he kind of agreed.

Once they reached the art room, Angela immediately noticed a few of her fellow cheerleaders at one of the tables. She waved at them and told Tony, “Let’s go sit over with them.”

He hesitated, giving the cheerleaders a judgmental look. For one thing, he had no interest in sitting with other cheerleaders. As he had said before and he’d say again, he didn’t like any cheerleaders but his sister. And he definitely hated watching his sister act like a completely different person around them.

But, more importantly, Tony told her, “I don’t think Lindsay would want to sit with them.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize she was taking this.”

“Yeah. She’s taking, like, almost every art class here,” Tony said. 

Angela nodded, her jaw slightly tense. “Yeah, she seems really good at all of that,” she admitted, “and Ms. Defoe loves her.” It wasn’t like Angela expected to be praised for her own artwork constantly or anything, but, okay, maybe she was a _little_ jealous that Lindsay got praised by their teacher for every little thing she did in their class last quarter. Maybe she wouldn’t have been so bothered by it if she hadn’t already been jealous of her relationship with Tony, but it was still annoying. 

“I’m not surprised. She’s _so_ good at, like, every kind of art, but I think painting might be her best, so I’m excited to see what she does in here,” Tony said.

Yeah, hearing Tony praising her just as much wasn’t really helping matters. 

“Hey!” Tony and Angela turned around to the sound of Lindsay coming in. She was smiling at her best friend excitedly. “It’s so cool that we have another class together,” Lindsay said.

Tony nodded. “Yeah, and this will be a _lot_ more fun than our history class.”

 _“Totally,”_ Lindsay agreed, "even if Ms. Defoe won't blow up like our history teacher does." She looked at Angela and said, “Hey.” Angela noticed she sounded less than enthusiastic to see her. When she noticed the table of cheerleaders, she raised her eyebrows and told her, “Good luck with those girls. They definitely know the school colors from your cheers, but I don’t think they can tell them apart.”

Normally, a joke like that would’ve made Angela laugh, though she’d follow it up with an insistence that they weren’t _that_ bad, if only because she’d feel bad for laughing in the first place. She knew her friends in both Orange County and New York weren’t the smartest bunch, after all. But hearing Lindsay say that “joke” in that dry tone of voice made Angela less than pleased. She was pretty sure Lindsay thought that she was at the same IQ level just because she was a cheerleader, something Lindsay had been until _literally_ a few months ago. She was pretty sure Lindsay had dismissed her just because of her friend group. And she was pretty sure Tony was starting to be even more anti-cheerleader, and therefore anti-Angela, because of her.

Also, not to harp on how she was jealous of Tony’s friendship with Lindsay, but Tony’s genuine laugh at that jab didn’t make her any happier.

“Good one,” Angela forced herself to say. “But they _aren’t_ that bad.”

“I know. That’s why it was a joke,” Lindsay said with a raised eyebrow. She looked over at Tony and suggested they sit at a table towards the front of the room.

“Sounds good,” Tony said. He looked over at Angela and said, “Talk to you later.” 

"Yeah. Later." Whenever  _that_ was.

* * *

A couple of weeks into that second quarter, the whole art class was in a circle working at their easels. Angela stood next to Tony, her cheerleading friends on her other side, and Lindsay was, of course, on Tony’s other side.

Angela was grateful that Lindsay was very dedicated to her craft, because she didn’t say much as they worked, giving Angela some access to time to talk to Tony as they painted. Everyone had the same photo of a bowl of fruit to paint, but Lindsay was getting really into hers, whereas Tony and Angela weren’t as far along as they probably should’ve been.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily please Ms. Defoe when she came by. Still, she offered them some good feedback, both complimenting certain aspects of their work and offering suggestions for improvements. 

As Ms. Defoe moved onto Lindsay’s easel, it was clear that she loved it. “You’re already adding shading? That’s _very_ impressive.” Lindsay perked up at the praise, smiling at their teacher. While she gave Lindsay some suggestions, it wasn’t nearly as much as she had given anyone else. “Keep doing what you’re doing; it’s an excellent work so far.”

“Thank you, Ms. Defoe,” Lindsay said, still smiling widely. Getting compliments from a teacher was still so weird for her. Most everyone else assumed she was asking to use the bathroom whenever she raised her hand. Which, yeah, she normally was, but still.

A few minutes later, the class was interrupted by their principal, Ms. Lawson, sticking her head in. “Is this a good time?” she asked Ms. Defoe.

“Oh, yes, come in,” Ms. Defoe said. She told the class, “Brushes down for now, class. Ms. Lawson has an excellent opportunity for all of you.”

Everyone did as they were told (Lindsay rather reluctantly so). After clearing her throat, Ms. Lawson announced that there was a state-wide art contest with a theme of “Student Life at the Dawn of the Millennium”, whatever the hell _that_ meant. 

“They want to know what it’s like to be a high school student in today’s fast-changing world,” she explained at everyone’s blank looks. She looked around them and continued, “Entry is _strictly_ voluntary, of course, but I can’t imagine why you would pass the chance of bringing honor unto yourself and Balboa High.”

Lindsay raised an eyebrow; who talked like that? She muttered to Tony, “‘Unto’?” 

“Buckle my shoe,” Tony immediately replied. The two of them both smiled at that before looking back at their principal.

“Ms. Defoe will choose the best entries from each art class. We’ll display those chosen for students as well as parents to enjoy at the next PTA meeting before we choose a winner to represent us at the state-level,” Ms. Lawson continued. “Any type of art is allowed, so do whatever expresses you best and makes your school proud!”

Before anyone could even ask any questions, she dismissed herself.

Ms. Defoe looked at the clock and told the students to start cleaning up their supplies. Lindsay sighed; she had hoped to get a bit farther into her work. Still, she dutifully washed out her brushes and got everything stored away.

Honestly, Lindsay had forgotten about the contest by the time the bell rang and their teacher asked her to stay behind for a moment. That confused her. She was only ever told to stay behind when she did bad on a test or something, but art was literally her best subject. How could her teacher be mad at her about, like, _anything?_

“Meet you in the locker bay?” Tony asked Lindsay. She nodded and watched her friend leave.

“Is there something wrong, Ms. Defoe?” Lindsay asked once they were alone.

“Of course there isn’t, Lindsay,” she said kindly. “I wanted to say that I’ve loved having you in class.”

“Really?” Even though Ms. Defoe had been so complimentary towards her, Lindsay was surprised to hear that. 

Ms. Defoe nodded. “I know you’ve taken art classes before and you always showed promise, but this past school year, you’ve really stepped it up another level. You have such a creative spirit.” 

Lindsay couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Oh, well, thank you. I’ve loved being in more art classes.”

“That’s why I can’t wait to see what you enter into the contest,” her teacher said.

For a moment, Lindsay looked at her blankly. Then she shook her head and said, “I don’t know, Ms. Defoe. I’m…I’m not really the _competitive_ type.” 

Ms. Defoe tilted her head. “You’re such an original thinker, Lindsay; if anyone can capture student life at the dawn of the millennium, it’s you.” She put a hand on Lindsay’s shoulder and said, “So, I just wanted to say good luck.”

Lindsay looked at her smiling teacher’s face and felt her stomach sink. “…Thanks.”

* * *

“God, I can’t believe she was so… _nice_ about it,” Lindsay complained as she got into her car with Tony. “Like, I can’t just turn her away now! I have to come up with some stupid project about ‘student life’ and what it’s like to be a teen. _Ugh.”_ She closed the door of her car violently. “I can’t believe I quit the cheerleading team and _still_ have to act like everything’s all _super_.”

She rolled her eyes and started the car while Tony frowned. “Yeah, I’m not even sure what you can call positive about student life.”

“Right?” Lindsay started her car. “I mean, it’s _school._ There’s nothing fun about it.” She rolled her eyes, but then a thought came to her. “…Wait…Did they ever say it _had_ to be positive?”

Tony thought about it. “…I guess not, no.” He laughed. “God, I can’t wait to see what you come up with, then. It’s going to be _great.”_

Lindsay grinned and started to drive. “Oh, it’ll be something _great,_ alright. I’ll show them how ‘great’ student life really is.”

“Yes!”

“Something that shows how much it sucks.”

“Yes!”

“And you’re gonna help me!”

“ _Nope.”_

“Come on!” Lindsay pleaded, looking over at him as she reached a stop sign. “You’re, like, the most negative person I know!”

_“Thanks.”_

“I need your help to shove it to them. Don’t you wanna help with that?”

Tony thought about it. Okay, that _would_ be pretty cool. He held back a sigh and finally nodded. “Fine.”

“Awesome!” Lindsay said with a grin.

“But I don’t want my name on it, okay? I’m a silent collaborator.”

“Totally fine,” Lindsay agreed. “You come up with an idea and I’ll make it happen.”

“Alright,” Tony said with a nod. After a moment, he suggested, “Let’s got to my place. I might be able to find some ideas in one of my books.”

“Okay!” Lindsay agreed cheerfully. She loved hanging out at her own place for sure, but the idea of doing something different sounded nice. Ever since Alternapalooza, she had only been over at his place to pick him up before going out to one of Gob’s gigs or to get pizza or something, but his parents were always so nice that she liked the idea of hanging out there again. Besides, her mom seemed to be extra cranky as of late, so she didn't mind getting out of the house.

God, she hated whenever her mom tried to be sober.

The two of them hung out in his room for the next few hours, Lindsay working on homework—well, more like doodling on her notebook paper with her math textbook open—as Tony brainstormed ideas. Every now and then they’d discuss a possibility, but nothing really got them excited or fit the theme.

“You could draw Sally Sitwell and Michael and label it ‘The Future of America’?” Tony suggested.

“That’s _too_ depressing,” Lindsay said, wrinkling her nose. “Maybe I can draw a group of people doing the Macarena, but in, like, soldier uniforms.”

“That’s not really student life,” Tony pointed out. “But you should _totally_ do that at some point.” 

Eventually, Tony’s mom poked her head in. “Oh, hello, Lindsay! I didn’t know you were here.”

“Oh, sorry, Mrs. Wunderlich—I mean, Giulia,” Lindsay said. She had to constantly fight against her instinct to call adults by their last names when it came to Tony’s parents. 

“No, no, it’s totally fine!” Giulia insisted brightly. Tony held back an eyeroll; he knew she was just overly enthusiastic to see proof that he still had a friend. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense! We’d love to have you!” Giulia thought for a moment before saying, “Have you ever had ziti?”

“Um, I’m not sure?” Lindsay's mom wasn't the biggest fan of Italians or their food in general.

“I’ll make some of my family’s recipe; it’s my turn to cook tonight,” Giulia said pleasantly before excitedly heading back downstairs.

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Normally when it’s her night to cook we get frozen lasagna, since she’s so tired from work. Maybe you should come over for dinner more often,” he said.

“Frozen lasagna isn’t that bad. We make that a lot when Rosa can’t cook.”

“It’s not as good as the fresh one we make on Thanksgiving,” Tony said.

Lindsay wrinkled her nose. “I hate Thanksgiving,” she mumbled. “Except for the drinks.”

“Your mom lets you drink?”

“It’d be hypocritical of her not to.”

Eventually they were called down to dinner, everyone but Angela soon swarming into the dining room. Pip and Mike had set the table with an extra chair, which threw everyone off for a moment. Everyone had gotten so used to sitting in the same spots over the years that it took a moment to figure out where to sit. Tony just sat down in his usual space and Daniel did as well, taking the space next to Tony. After a moment, Lindsay sat on Tony’s other side—Angela’s usual space.

“Now _where_ is that sister of yours?” Giulia asked as she surveyed the table. Angela had a tendency of coming home later than planned, since she didn’t seem to know how to keep track of her time.

“The backseat of some guy’s car,” Daniel joked quietly from his spot next to Tony. Lindsay laughed, not expecting the joke at all, and Tony laughed despite himself. It was one of the jokes they always made about her, just like how everyone teased Tony for being “moody” and Lizzie for being a know-it-all and Mike for being a near-mute. It was just what families did, or at least what the Wunderlichs always did. Of course, sometimes it would occasionally cross the line, like when it turned from dumb jokes to outright name calling, but it was usually just all in good fun.

Almost as soon as Giulia and Chiara got all the food on the table, the door loudly opened and Angela announced, “Sorry I’m late!” She hurried over to the dining room as she said, “Cheer practice ran long and—” She stopped short when she saw Lindsay in her usual spot. “…Hi, Lindsay. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Hey, Angela,” Lindsay said casually. 

Angela looked at her for a while and then around the table before finally sitting in the only available seat, basically as far from Tony as she could be, next to Mike. Her baby brother smiled up at her and she forced a smile on back despite feeling majorly dejected. 

“What’s for dinner?” Dan asked, seeming to just realize there wasn’t frozen lasagna or take-out on the table.

“I thought I’d show Lindsay the family ziti recipe,” Giulia said brightly, opening up the large pot near her. Angela raised her eyebrows; she never expected to have _that_ on a simple weekday night.

Giulia eagerly loaded some onto Lindsay’s plate and Lindsay’s mouth opened slightly as she looked at the meal. It was cheesy, full of high-fat meat and tons of carbs from the pasta. It was the sort of meal her mom would never allow Rosa to make.

“Oh, wow,” Lindsay said. Lindsay waited until everyone had food before taking a bite, as she had been trained to do. And, despite how good it was, she again followed proper manners by finishing her bite before speaking. “This is _so_ good,” Lindsay said genuinely. Giulia beamed and started to eat her food.

As usual, they all ended up talking a bit about their days. Lindsay mostly listened as Lizzie bragged about a test she aced and Daniel talked about an annoying customer at the bakery, his father joining in on the rant. Pip raved about her day and got Lindsay laughing at a Buster story she had for everyone.

“Yeah, if you ever want weird Buster stories, I have _plenty_ of them,” Lindsay said with a smile. 

“Buster’s funny,” Pip said, Mike nodding in agreement.

“He is,” Lindsay agreed, Tony also nodding. His experiences with him were still limited, but they had all been strange. “Love him, though.”

“Even his name’s funny,” Pip giggled. Realizing that sounded mean, she added, “Mine’s funny, too!”

 _“All_ of our real names are funny, Pipsqueak,” Daniel said. Mike nodded enthusiastically in agreement from his spot next to his twin. “Except Angela. She got a normal name.” 

“What’s wrong with Daniel?” Lindsay asked.

He rolled his eyes and said, “It’s short for _Daniele.”_  

 _“Daniele Alessandro Wunderlich,”_ Tony said in an exaggerated accent, making Lindsay laugh.

Daniel raised an eyebrow at him and said, in a similar manner, _“Antonio Francesco Wunderlich.”_ Lindsay laughed again and Tony glared at his older brother.

Not wanting to start some fight between the two of them, Lindsay told Pip, “Buster isn’t his real name, though. It’s a nickname.”

Pip’s eyes widened. “Really? What’s it short for?”

“It’s not short for anything, it’s just a different name,” Lindsay explained. “His real name’s Byron.”

Tony raised his eyebrows at her, finally taking his eyes off of Daniel. “Really? _Byron?”_ Lindsay nodded. “Weird.” 

“Right? I don’t even know how he got that nickname, but he’s been baby Buster for, like, ever, because he’s _such_ a Buster,” Lindsay said. “Just like how Gob is totally _not_ a George.”

“…How do you get Gob from George?” Lizzie asked.

“It’s his initials,” Lindsay said as if that should be obvious. It made so much sense to her that she never got why other people got confused by it. “G-O-B. George Oscar Bluth II.”

Tony’s dad, who hadn’t seemed to be following the conversation, finally took notice. “Bluth?” Lindsay nodded. “Like the Bluth Company?”

“Yeah, that’s my dad,” Lindsay said. She couldn’t stop herself from sitting up a bit taller at that. Her dad’s company always demanded so much respect from others and she liked that. And, you know, it made people realize she had money, and while she was fighting her more shallow past, she _did_ like people knowing she had money.

“As in the huge real estate development company?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” Dan said. He chuckled and added, “Bluth company…wouldn’t mind a bit of _that_ insider trading, huh?”

 _“Dad!”_ Chiara reprimanded as her mom hissed, _“Dan!”_  

“Oh my god,” Tony muttered to himself before saying, “Sorry, Linds. He’s kidding…I hope.”

Lindsay, in all honesty, wasn’t quite sure what Dan had meant, but she knew it obviously wasn’t a good thing. She still chose to see it as a joke and acted like it didn't happen. She continued, “But there’s more than that. There’s the Cornballer. Oh, and some home videos. And, of course, the Bluth Banana stand. My dad says there’s _always_ money in the banana stand.”

“Oh, you mean the Big Yellow Joint?” Daniel said. That, like his father's comment, got a round of reprimands from his sister and mother. “What? That’s what the locals call it.”

“It’s true,” Lindsay said. 

“Yeah. But the bananas are pretty good,” Daniel said.

“Oh, you’ve probably met Michael if you’ve been. He’s normally the one running it,” Lindsay said. “Michael’s my twin.”

“Yeah, 'cause she has a twin named Michael like I do!” Pip said excitedly. Lindsay nodded with a smile at her. She _was_ really cute, even if she was extremely hyper.

Daniel raised his eyebrows. “…That scrawny guy is your twin?”

“That’s right.” 

He looked her up and down again and shook his head. “Weird.”

“Yeah, you really don’t look like twins,” Tony agreed. “Or act like it, either. Not like the twins I know at least.” 

“Yeah. Michael can’t even talk in front of me,” Angela said with a small laugh. 

“He can’t handle talking to, like, _any_ girl. It’s sad,” Lindsay responded, laughing a little herself.

“It’s kinda cute,” Angela said. She looked over at Lindsay and looked her over. “…You know, I really _hadn’t_ thought about how little you look like him.”

Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “Well, we aren’t identical. Obviously.”

“You’d think you’d at least have the same _nose_ or something.”

Lindsay felt her stomach lurch. She had no idea if Angela had heard about her surgery and was making a comment on purpose or if she was just making an innocent observation. Either way, Lindsay had to resist the urge to look for her reflection in a piece of silverware. Despite how long ago she had the surgery, she still had nightmares every now and then that her old nose grew back.

“I always thought I had a more… _delicate_ version of his,” Lindsay said defensively, running a finger over it. That had been what they asked the surgeon to do, after all. 

“And your hair, too. His is so much darker,” Angela said. “But, I guess you can afford good bleach.”

Tony gave his sister a look. "You bleach your hair," Tony pointed out.

Lindsay raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m naturally blonde. Recessive genes.” 

“And you’re, like, taller than him. Like, you’ve grown more than him,” Angela continued.

“Well, girls develop faster,” Lindsay said, repeating the words Michael told her when that part of her insecurities come out. “I know I look older than sixteen, but…” she shrugged, not sure what to say.

“Definitely older than sixteen,” Daniel muttered to himself, giving her another look out of the side of his eyes. Tony hit his arm; why was he such a perv?

“Well, our aunt and uncle are also twins and don’t look much alike,” Tony said, trying to stop the conversation. “They don’t get along as well as Pip and Mike do, either.”

“That’s true,” Chiara said.

“Yeah. Michael and I are just very different. Gob and I get along better. A lot of people actually assumed we were twins when we were younger,” Lindsay said.

“Y-yeah. Gob’s cool,” Tony said, doing his best to force normalcy. 

He was _so_ lucky that Lindsay didn’t even smirk at his response. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool," she agreed.

“He has a band,” Tony said, somehow not sounding as excited as he felt every time he thought about Gob. He was pretty good at controlling his voice when needed. 

Giulia nodded. “Oh, right, he took you to that concert, right?”

“…Right,” Lindsay said. No need to get into how they never actually made it to the concert. 

“I probably should’ve met him before I let him drive you so far,” Giulia said with a frown.

The idea of his family ever meeting Gob made him want to die. “Oh, he’s really responsible, you don’t have to meet him,” Tony said quickly. 

Lindsay couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. _No one_ would call Gob responsible. Not even _Gob_ would call himself that, and he was completely oblivious to his own faults. Tony kicked her leg under the table to get her to shut up. If they thought he wasn't responsible, they'd want to meet him and he'd _never_ live it down. She cleared her throat and lied, “Oh, no, yeah, he’s very responsible. Can’t run a band if you’re not, after all.” Realizing that wasn’t the best lie, she said, “He got into Juilliard, you know. He’s a very disciplined musician. Takes his stuff seriously.”

“Why isn’t he in New York, then?” Lizzie asked.

“He decided to take a break from classical music to see if he really wanted to do that or not instead of wasting our parents money. You know, a very responsible decision,” Lindsay said. “He likes rock music better, so he started his band and seeing where that goes. Like, Freddie Mercury is his ultimate idol.”

“Good choice,” Daniel and Chiara said at the same time, both their parents nodding. 

“The day he died…” Giulia brought a hand to her heart with a frown. Not wanting to think about that, Giulia shook her head and said, “Well, we got a bit off track in the day summaries. I guess having such an interesting guest helps.” She cleared her throat and asked, “So, how was your day, Lindsay?”

Lindsay raised her eyebrows mid-bite. Her family wasn’t necessarily the type to ask each other how their day went. Her mom and dad had definitely stopped asking her since her cheerleading career ended. 

She quickly got over her shock and, after swallowing, said, “It was good…” Giulia looked at her so genuinely, like she _really_ wanted to know, and it made Lindsay feel both really weird and really, like, _warm_ or something. “They, uh, announced an art contest in my art class today—our art class, I guess, since Tony and Angela are in it. I wasn’t going to enter, but my teacher asked me to. I came over since Tony’s helping me come up with an idea.”. 

“That doesn’t seem like your sort of thing, Tonio,” Angela said, raising an eyebrow.

Tony shrugged. “Lindsay convinced me. We want to do something different from everyone else.” 

“Something that says something, about… _something._ I don’t know; we’ll figure it out,” Lindsay said. 

Angela pursed her lips. “I’d been thinking about entering.”

“What would yours be about? Cheerleading?” Lindsay asked dryly. 

Angela’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Maybe. It _is_ a big part of student life.”

“Unfortunately,” Tony said, making both himself and Lindsay laugh. Angela glared, but remained silent.

Lindsay took her last bite of ziti and turned to Tony's mom. “Thanks so much for dinner, Mrs. Wun—Giulia. It was _really_ good.”

“Oh, Lindsay, please have some more,” Giulia insisted. “You’re too skinny!”

Lindsay gave her a surprised look. “Really?” She smiled after a moment and laughed. “You think? You think _I’m_ …” She seemed unsure how to take what she considered a compliment, smiling and laughing a little while looking very confused. “I… _really_? Thank you.” Lindsay looked very pleased with herself and, after a moment’s hesitation, said, “Okay, why not?” She put a bit more on her plate and Tony smiled slightly at her. 

While she still insisted she never really had an eating disorder, Tony was pretty sure someone making themselves throw up “a couple of times” counted as one. And, after experiencing how critical her mom could be of her appearance, Tony was even more concerned. Seeing her actually eating was just, well, _nice._

“Seriously, eat all you want,” Giulia said. “There’s no way you could be any thinner.”

“My mom always says that ‘no one’s thinner than a winner’,” Lindsay said with a shrug.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Tony’s head. Lindsay wanted something that said something about something, right? Something personal that showed how much it sucked to be a teen? Oh, he had the perfect one for Lindsay to do.

As long as she agreed, of course.

He tapped Lindsay’s knee under the table. When she looked at him, he said, “I have an idea for the contest.” Lindsay smiled back excitedly at him while Angela made a small _hmph_ from across the table.

* * *

Tony looked over Lindsay’s painting as she taped up the poem Tony had written for it. “You did a _great_ job,” Tony said, sounding very impressed.

“Thanks!”

He looked at the painting of a young, pretty blonde staring at herself in the mirror and tilted his head slightly. “…Did you do a self-portrait for this?”

“What? No,” Lindsay said, looking confused. “She’s just a blonde. I figured that’d suit the whole perfect teen image best.”

Tony nodded, but as he continued to look at the picture, all he could see was how much it looked like Lindsay, from her (allegedly surgically altered) nose to the arch of her eyebrows. Sure, she didn’t have that bold lipstick color or extra ear piercings or any of the clothing Lindsay wore now, but Tony was pretty sure that was a dead ringer for the Lindsay he never met.

Ms. Defoe walked around and offered some comments and critiques of everyone’s art work, obviously getting excited to get to Lindsay’s. She offered her a kind smile and asked, “So, what did you do, Lindsay?”

Once Lindsay tilted the canvas towards her teacher, the woman smiled. “How beautiful! And such great detail…” Lindsay smiled genuinely as her teacher looked over the painting. Finally, she reached the card at the bottom and read through it.

She knows she's a winner  
She couldn't be thinner  
Now she goes to the bathroom  
And vomits up dinner

Ms. Defoe frowned and looked at Lindsay. “I don’t think that’s funny.” Lindsay looked too stunned to speak. “Do _you_ think it’s funny to make fun of someone with an eating disorder?”

“No!” Lindsay insisted at once. “No, but…uh…”

Tony whispered to Lindsay, “It’s not meant to be funny.”

Lindsay told her teacher, “It’s not meant to be funny.”

“So, you’re _judging_ her for having a serious problem?”

“No! I’m saying…” Lindsay started wringing her hands, not sure what to say.

Tony sighed and stepped in for her. “It’s about how serious a problem like that is. The girl is beautiful and you assume she’s happy and living a good life and nothing could be wrong. But, sometimes, that prettiness comes at a price.” Ms. Defoe frowned and looked back at the poster. “That’s why the words are so important; it’s supposed to be a shock compared to the beautiful image on the canvas.”

Their teacher turned to Lindsay. “So _that’s_ what you were saying?” Lindsay nodded. Ms. Defoe crossed her arms and, after a few moments of consideration, nodded. “This really _is_ a great work and it definitely makes a statement…" She looked at Lindsay and asked, "Will you let me enter it in the state-wide competition?”

Lindsay nodded. “Yeah. Uh, yeah, that sounds good.”

“And how does that sound to your collaborator?” Ms. Defoe asked with a grin and a look at Tony.

Tony sighed. He really _hadn’t_ wanted to get involved in this. But he said it was fine before Ms. Defoe left to look at other students’ work. 

“Next time I’m giving you a prepared statement,” Tony muttered to Lindsay.

But Lindsay looked over her painting, seemingly not hearing him. “Wow. I’ve never entered a competition before. Just some cheer competitions, but not like _this_ …” Lindsay smiled slowly to herself and Tony smiled back at her before looking at the picture himself. It really _was_ a great painting, whether Lindsay realized she had portrayed herself or not.

* * *

When Tony was called out of class later that day to a chorus of _ooo_ s from this classmates, he had a feeling the painting was the cause. That was all but confirmed when he saw Lindsay in the front office as well. Seconds later the principal, Ms. Lawson, called them in and they sat down in front of her desk.

“Now, I want to commend you for the excellent job you did on your contest entry,” their principal said. “But the accompanying poem…” She looked at a loss for words before simply shaking her head with a sigh. “We can’t promote that sort of thing.”

Tony nodded. “Well, yeah, that’s the point. She’s _so obsessed_ with perfection she’s doing something unhealthy and ugly.” His eyes briefly darted to Lindsay as he heard a sharp but quiet intake of breath from her. He’d have to say something to her afterward.

“But she looks so pretty and happy.”

 _“Exactly,”_ Tony said, not getting how she was missing the point. “This is about how there can be more behind that façade of happiness. The happiness isn’t necessarily there; it’s an…an _illusion.”_  

Again, Ms. Lawson sighed. “Couldn’t it be something about…being so tired she barely touches dinner? Something like that?”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Why? Because she’s _so pretty_ it’s hard for her to eat?” While Ms. Lawson nodded, Tony shook his head. “The whole idea of this contest was to explore student life and this is a real problem people have. And instead of letting us explore that, you want us to write some phony, fake message?”

“We just want you two to try something _positive,”_ the principal said. Tony rolled his eyes; what was wrong with being a cynic? Ms. Lawson seemed to realize he was a lost cause and turned to Lindsay instead. “I’m honestly rather concerned about you, Lindsay.”

Lindsay looked shocked. “What? Why?”

“I’ve noticed how much you’ve changed since last year,” Ms. Lawson said. “You were once so…so _positive._ You were sociable, a cheerleader, and so _happy._ And now you’re more withdrawn and dressing in darker colors and _brooding.”_ She frowned at Lindsay and said, “I don’t understand why you quit the team or why you’re acting like this.”

At least that confirmed that her guidance counselor hadn’t been lying when she said that she wasn’t going to tell people why she was forced off the team. She had told Lindsay they were confidential, but part of Lindsay had assumed all the teachers knew about what got her off the team. But, apparently, people just assumed she had quit.

“I’m…I’m just _experimenting,”_ Lindsay said after a moment. “And I’m happier now than I was even half a year ago.” 

Ms. Lawson raised an eyebrow. “Really? I find that hard to believe.” 

“Well, I’m not happy right _now._ Not when you’re lecturing us about something I was actually proud of,” Lindsay replied, crossing her arms. “I know you don’t know much about art, but Ms. Defoe can tell you that detail work is professional-worthy. And I really liked the idea behind the whole poem, or I wouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

“You sure you weren’t… _pressured_ to do it?” Ms. Lawson asked, her eyes flicking over to Tony all too obviously.

“If you think I could be persuaded to do something I don’t want to, you _clearly_ don’t know how Bluths work,” Lindsay said proudly as she stood up. Tony smiled at her before smirking at the principal as he also stood up. “So, if you want to change it, then it’s not getting entered. At least not with _my_ name on it.”

“Same,” Tony said.

Ms. Lawson sighed. “It’s your decision to make.” With that the two of them left, Ms. Lawson frowning at them.

* * *

Tony had more or less forgotten about the poster by the time he got home from school. But as he had dinner with his family, Angela brought up the contest, talking about how she had entered her poster. It was a picture of a whole bunch of drugs that she then put an "X" through with her lipstick. She said it was symbolic that it was done in lipstick, but Tony was pretty sure she had just forgotten to put something negative to match her "don't do drugs" message. Regardless, Tony stabbed at his dinner a bit harder than necessary at the reminder of the contest, but didn’t say anything.

“You know, I got a call about that at work today,” Giulia said, her eyes shifting Tony’s way. 

“What about it?” Angela asked.

Giulia looked at Tony with slightly narrowed eyes. “Want to tell them what happened?”

Tony looked up at his mom and rolled his eyes. “Our teacher wanted to enter the piece I helped Lindsay with and the principal wants us to change it. So, we said no, because it would ruin the poster’s message. That’s it.”

“But what was it that she wanted to change?”

“The poem I wrote for it,” Tony said. As his mom kept looking at him, he rolled his eyes again. “Lindsay painted a beautiful picture of a pretty girl looking in a mirror. And I wrote a small poem that implied there was more to it than that.”

“Something about how she ‘vomits up dinner’?” Almost everyone at the table groaned at that.

“Oh, Tonio,” Angela said, shaking her head with a sigh. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not supposed to be! It’s making a _statement,”_ Tony said defensively.

Chiara shook her head and Daniel scoffed. “Only _your_ twisted mind would come up with something that negative for a project on student life.”

“It’s not even _negative._ It’s supporting people who think you shouldn’t be judged on your looks,” Tony said.

“Oh, come on, Tony; people like that don’t exist,” Angela said.

Tony scoffed. “Of course we do.”

Angela laughed. “Yeah, and that’s why you purposefully wear all black every day and spike your hair and have crafted this whole aesthetic. Because you don’t care how you look.” Tony’s jaw tightened and Angela continued, “And you did this with Lindsay, as in the girl who quit the cheerleading team and has cultivated her own new image to try to be as far from a cheerleader as possible—again, only because she cares how people see her.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “She dresses how she _wants_ to dress now. She didn’t before.”

“Oh, of course,” Angela said sarcastically. “That’s why she wears clothes that _scream_ , ‘artist’. Just because she _is_ one, not because she wants so desperately to be seen as one so she can have _some_ sort of identity now.” Before Tony could sputter out a reply, she said, “Face it, Tonio; you guys care how you look just as much as us supposed ‘shallow’ people do. You want to look unapproachable and she wants to look like she’s so above all of us and is some free spirit.”

Tony scoffed in disbelief. “What is your _problem,_ Angela?”

“My _problem_ is with _you,_ Tonio.”

Chiara and Giulia stared with wide eyes. The twins and their dad looked confused. Daniel and Lizzie both looked like they needed popcorn as they watched the two of them. Angela and Tony really _were_ like best friends growing up. They had to be, what with being the closest in age of everyone besides the twins. They were basically twins in their own right. So, yeah, they had little squabbles here and there, but no one had ever seen them that angry with each other.

“Why? What have I done?”

“You’ve _always_ thought you were better than everyone—better than _me_ and my friends because you don’t care about _anything._  But that doesn’t make you cool or interesting, it just makes you _annoying!”_ Angela exclaimed.

“I care about a lot of things—”

“And you only did this project so you could say something edgy and provocative,” she continued. “And just so you could judge and make fun of people with a serious problem.”

That definitely wasn't true. Angela didn't know how much he really _did_ care, how much he worried about Lindsay every time she claimed she wasn't hungry. “I’m not judging _anyone._ All we were trying to say is that girls feel a certain pressure to look a certain way and that appearances aren’t all that they seem,” Tony said. 

“No, you’re judging them just like every person you judge in the bakery.”

“You judge them just as much as I do!”

“The point is that you’ve always thought you were better than everyone and it’s only gotten worse since you’ve been hanging out with Lindsay.”

“How have I gotten worse?”

“Well, now you think you’re better than me just because, what? I _admit_ that I care about how I look? Because I cheer? Because _I_ haven’t changed, Tonio, but _you_ have.”

Tony scoffed. “Sorry that I think that you can do better than your bimbo friends.”

“See? There you go judging people for not being up to your standards—standards _you_ don’t even meet half the time.” She stood up and said, “You know, just a few months ago, Lindsay was a cheerleader, too, and you would've hated her.”

Tony stood up and said, “But, unlike you, she woke up and left that toxic _cult.”_

Angela’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “She is a _bad influence_ on you.”

“Jesus _Christ,”_ Tony groaned.

“She is! Taking you on cross-country trips with her irresponsible brother—”

“You don’t even know Gob!”

“Getting you involved in controversies like this—”

“I was the one who came up with the idea!”

“Keeping you out all day and night doing god knows _what.”_

Tony laughed. “Are you seriously getting mad at _me_ for going out?” He scoffed and said, “At least I’m not spending my nights blowing frat guys in their cars.”

“Antonio!” Giulia finally spoke.

Angela ignored her and shot back, “You’re just jealous that you can’t get a guy interested.”

“I'd rather be a virgin than the school _slut,”_ Tony said heatedly.

Remember how the jokes were fine until they crossed a line?

Yeah, that was one majorly crossed line. It was one thing for Tony to joke about it, but it was definitely another to say those words to her and he knew that. And he instantly regretted it, especially when he saw the look on her face.

But, then again, what did she expect after attacking him so relentlessly?

"Ange, I—"

Angela pushed past him and ran up the stairs, the door to her room slamming behind her seconds later. Tony looked at his family and groaned before going up the stairs and slamming his own door shut. He knew he probably would’ve been sent there anyways for what he said.

Daniel looked around the table and let out a low whistle. “Wow. And I thought _I_ was the one who was supposed to traumatize the little ones.” 

* * *

Michael got home late. Student council had run longer than expected since they had to set up for the upcoming PTA and art gallery showcase. After that, he went to the library for a research project and stayed until he was kicked out. By the time he got home, he went to the kitchen to look for leftovers.

He had just finished found some leftover enchiladas when Lindsay came in, drenched in sweat from a run.

“Oh. Michael. Hey,” she said breathlessly.

Michael looked her in the eye and asked, “Mom was at dinner?”

She looked down and nodded. “It’s been a long day. I just needed to escape for a bit.”

“You hungry?” Michael asked. Lindsay looked conflicted, but ultimately nodded.

Once they sat down, Gob came into the kitchen and poured himself some scotch on the rocks. “You do realize you still aren’t 21, right?” Michael asked.

“Like that even stops _you,”_ Gob retorted. Okay, true, Michael drank as well, but he’d never do it on a school night. Not that Gob had school, but he just wished Gob had _some_ structure in his life.

But, speaking of structure in his siblings' lives, he knew he was the one who provided it. And he knew that he had something to talk to Lindsay about. Michael looked over at Lindsay as she picked at her food and remembered what the principal had told him at the student council meeting. “Apparently Ms. Lawson tried calling earlier, but the call wouldn’t go through.”

“Oh, mom was having one of her passive aggressive back and forths with Lucille Two earlier,” Gob said. “Lasted hours. Woke me up.”

“Sorry you had to actually see the sun today,” Michael said dryly.

"It's okay. It was bound to happen sometime this week," Gob said with a shrug.

Michael turned back to Lindsay and said, “Anyways, since she couldn’t get through, she told me what had happened.”

“What happened?” Gob asked as Lindsay sighed. 

Lindsay swallowed her bite and said, “My art teacher thought I should enter this dumb contest about student life. I asked Tony for an idea and he came up with a great one, but Ms. Lawson thinks it’s inappropriate.”

“She said the picture is great, but the poem he wrote is in bad taste,” Michael corrected. “She really wants you guys to rewrite it so you can enter it.”

“We’re not going to,” Lindsay said. “I’m not doing some watered-down message just to please her.”

Michael sighed. “Lindsay, you realize whatever you do affects me, too, right? If she’s angry at you, she’s going to be angry at me, too.”

“She didn’t say what it was, did she?” Lindsay asked. Michael shook his head and Lindsay crossed her arms. “The painting is some of my best work.”

“Ms. Lawson agrees about the picture, at least. She says you drew a beautiful girl and did a great job. She just doesn’t want the poem.”

“What’s the poem?” Gob asked.

Lindsay hesitated. She had a feeling they'd make it some big deal when they knew the subject. But, after a moment, she recited, “She knows she’s a winner, she couldn’t be thinner, now she goes to the bathroom and vomits up dinner.”

They were all silent for a moment, lots of unspoken thoughts and feelings running through the silence: Michael and Gob finding empty wrappers strewn around the kitchen after rough days; Michael running up to Lindsay’s room and stopping her from going to the bathroom; Gob getting there too late to stop it, but waiting for her in her bedroom so she wouldn’t have to think about it afterwards. It had been a while since any of that had happened, but they obviously knew how personal that poem made the project.

“Lindsay…” Michael finally sighed, running his hands over his face. “You can’t go around promoting this stuff.”

“I’m not _promoting_ it,” Lindsay said. "It's supposed to be a juxtaposition of a pretty girl who you think has everything together and has a perfect life, but how she does something awful to attain that 'perfection'."

Michael sighed again. Her voice cracked just enough that he knew the poster meant a lot to her. “I don’t understand. I know you’ve…you’ve gone through a lot. And I know you’ve been better. But being so cynical in this sort of project—”

“Who are you to tell me not to be cynical?” Lindsay asked.

“…Fair,” Michael said. “But you couldn’t have expected teachers being okay about this. I don’t see why you’re going for this shock value.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, Tony seemed to be aiming for that,” Michael said.

Before Lindsay could defend her friend, Gob said, “I don’t think he was.” Michael and Lindsay both turned to him. “Lindsay asked for his help and he came up with something real and personal for Lindsay to work with. Maybe it’s shocking, but this was supposed to express Lindsay’s personal view of student life. And it did that.”

“Thanks, Gob,” Lindsay said, a little shocked at the support of both her friend _and_ her art.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Linds…be that as it may, can you please try hearing her out? There’s been enough damage for our family's reputation at the school because of Gob.” They both looked over at their brother, only to see Gob running a finger over his chin, his mind clearly somewhere else. The twins looked back at each other and Michael continued, “I _really_ need her on my good side for college recommendations. So, _please,_ just hear her out before she starts to hate me.”

Lindsay sighed and closed her eyes. As stupid as she found the request, she _did_ support her twin brother getting into college. Preferably one far, far away from her.

She also knew he wouldn’t stop lecturing her until she agreed, anyways. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll give whatever idea she has a chance.”

“Thank you.”

Gob snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Lindsay. “You think Tony could write full song lyrics? That poem’s pretty good.”

“For you?” Lindsay asked, smirking slightly. “I’m sure he’d give it a go.”

* * *

Tony and Lindsay were called down to the front office yet again the next day. After the nights both of them had, they agreed to let Ms. Lawson have one of the English teachers try to rewrite the poem. Their teacher even said that if they didn’t like it, they could withdraw the poster and that was that.

So, they were called down to the office _yet again_ the day after that, this time with their teacher, Mr. O'Neill, present. “I think you guys are really going to like it,” he said, unveiling the poster. Tony’s eyes immediately landed on the poem and they soon started to narrow as he read through it.

 _She knows she’s a winner_  
 _She couldn’t be thinner_  
 _Because she’s careful what she eats_  
 _For breakfast, lunch, and dinner_ _  
_Good nutrition rules!

“Is this a joke?” Tony asked. “You can’t be serious.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. O'Neill asked. “All I did was take your message and made it positive. She’s pretty because she takes _care_ of herself! That’s a great message, and it’s more powerful because it’s upbeat!”

“Right,” Tony said dryly. “She’s not gonna throw up anymore. But _I_ might. Unless that’s too _downbeat_ for you.”

“You two should be thanking him for his hard work at preserving your message,” Ms. Lawson said.

“He didn’t _preserve_ it; he perverted it,” Tony said with a shake of his head. “Now it’s just some usual, mindless drivel like any magazine would tell its young girls—in between airbrushed ads that make them want to throw up dinner in the first place.” 

Lindsay’s hands gripped hard on the arms of her chair as Tony continued to try to get the message through to these complete _idiots._ She couldn’t believe that Ms. Lawson thought she had the right to say that Lindsay of all people couldn’t talk about body image. She couldn’t believe that _she_ was getting in trouble for taking something personal and making art. Wasn’t that the best kind of therapy? Didn’t they get how she had never felt prouder of herself than when Ms. Defoe wanted to enter her work into the contest in the first place? 

Didn’t they get that covering her message and trying to shame them for the topic they chose just made _her_ feel more shame for having dealt with that issue in the first place?

Lindsay looked at the poster, her eyes studying the girl she had painted. The look in her eyes, the curve of her nose, the fullness of her lips…Lindsay swallowed roughly as a realization hit her like a brick.

Suddenly, she stood up and said, “I’d like my poster back, please.” All three of them blinked up at her and said said, “Mr. O'Neill agreed that we could withdraw it from the contest if we didn’t like the changes. And, clearly, we don’t like the changes. So. I want my poster back.”

Ms. Lawson’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I didn’t agree to those terms.”

“…What?” Lindsay said, her eyes narrowing as well.

“You were right before, about how this is a fine work. The detailing, the brush strokes, the color, the realism…it needs to be added to the contest. It’ll give us a great chance of winning,” Ms. Lawson said. “It’d be silly not to submit it for our school—for _you_ to get recognition.”

Mr. O'Neill argued, “But I _did_ promise them—”

“I didn’t,” Ms. Lawson interrupted. “This will be displayed tonight with the other works under _your_ names with _this_ poem. And if it ends up winning our school's round, it'll represent us at state. End of discussion.”

* * *

“I can’t…I can’t believe she did this,” Lindsay said for what had to be the hundredth time as she paced her room.

“I know,” Tony agreed from where he sat on her bed. “This _has_ to be some human rights violation.”

“I can’t believe that I entered my work, work I was _proud_ of, work that _meant_ something, only to have her rip it of its meaning and change it _entirely,”_ Lindsay ranted. “I can’t believe she thinks she has some authority over how someone can talk about eating disorders over _me!_ Like she knows it better than _I_ do—” Lindsay suddenly cut herself off. After a pause, she said, “Not like _I’m_ an authority. I mean…I just did _that_ a few times.”

Tony resisted the urge to sigh. She had been so close to being honest about it. “I know,” Tony said.

Lindsay crossed her arms and sat down on her bed. “I can’t believe that stupid fucking poem is on there now. I stopped being a cheerleader only to be forced to say something positive that I don’t believe yet _again.”_

“I’m just glad my mom has some work thing so I don’t have to go to it,” Tony said. He knew Angela would be there, proudly displaying her own work, and in any other circumstance, Tony would support her work, too, but he was still too pissed off at her to even consider it. “You know that you’re gonna win it, too. Like, seriously, yours is the best work of all of them.”

“And I’m going to win for something I don’t even believe in,” Lindsay said. “…No one will just let me be who I am, will they? Because nothing I am is good enough for anyone.” She clenched her jaw and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “I tried to be a cheerleader and popular and my mom still didn’t think I was good enough. I tried to do what makes me happy, and I get in trouble. What the hell am I _supposed_ to do, then?” 

Tony really had no idea what to say. He was just as upset, but all from a righteous, right-versus-wrong, anti-censorship sort of way, whereas this poster was really personal for Lindsay. He felt bad that he was the one who wrote the poem in the first place, now that she was clearly suffering from it. It was a piece truly about her and her own struggles, and it had been rejected; that had to be upsetting her even more.

And Tony couldn’t just let it stand.

“I have an idea,” Tony said. “We’re going to get our message up there one way or another.” If they wanted them to be even more obviously anti-eating disorder, well, there was a school approved way to do that.

* * *

“Sorry that we woke you,” Tony told Gob as they got in his car. He did feel kinda bad, even if the sun was starting to set.

“Don’t worry about it. It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Gob said with a shrug. He started his car and said, “Besides, you did the right thing by coming to me.”

“We just needed a getaway car that didn’t have its license plate registered on the school’s system like mine,” Lindsay said. “You were our only option.”

“…Still a good call, then,” Gob said.

Once he pulled up to the school’s parking lot, he said, “Okay, here’s the plan: I’ll sit here with foot on the accelerator, ready to burn rubber—”

“Gob, you’re parking the car and coming in with us to help,” Lindsay said.

“…Alternate plan. Cool.”

“And even if you weren’t coming in, I’d have you park in case you fell asleep at the wheel,” Lindsay said.

“That only happened _one time!”_ Gob insisted. “Driving can be tiring!”

“That makes sense,” Tony reasoned. Lindsay just rolled her eyes while her brother parked the car.

Michael saw them almost right away when they got inside. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Supporting student art and life in the dawn of the new millennium,” Lindsay said simply. “Besides, I know I’m a shoe-in to win, and I want to be here to see myself win.”

Michael looked at them suspiciously, but ended up just shaking his head and walking away. That was good; they didn’t need him watching them. 

As they continued to walk down the art wing, Tony looked over the other posters. Lindsay’s truly _was_ the best one and it had such a unique message compared to everyone else’s. She really deserved to win—at least by her artwork alone.

And, apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought it was the best. There was a lot of traffic by her poster, parents and students alike looking at it and murmuring appreciative comments to each other. Lindsay definitely loved that, but she grew impatient as she waited for the crowd to disperse. She had really hoped she could just do what she had planned with Tony and then book it.

Thankfully, people were starting to go to the PTA meeting and the crowd was thinning. “You two, keep a lookout,” Lindsay whispered. Gob and Tony nodded before splitting to each side of the hallway. 

Lindsay took a deep breath and looked through her purse. She pulled out her compact and her lipstick and walked over to the table. She opened her compact and re-applied her lipstick. She adjusted her compact mirror slightly and saw Angela approaching her brother. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but Tony seemed to distract her, so at least she wouldn’t see what was going down. Good.

She closed her compact and stored it back in her purse. She looked over in Gob’s direction, glad to see that the coast was clear there. After one last look around, Lindsay looked at her painting. 

Looking up at it up close again made her stomach clench. She wondered if Ms. Defoe saw what Lindsay now saw when she complimented the details. She wondered if her teacher had a suspicion of what was supposed to be confidential between Lindsay, her guidance counselor, and the cheerleading coach. She wondered if anyone else had figured out what it meant. There was no way Ms. Lawson did, or else she would’ve said something, right?

Lindsay was really proud of it. But when she saw that stupid, edited poem, she felt her body tense. She grasped at her lipstick, the bold shade she never would’ve dared to try the year before, and rolled it up all the way. Then, with a steady hand, she started to lower it to the canvas and—

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Lindsay quickly turned around, hiding the lipstick behind her back, and found herself standing face-to-face with Ms. Lawson. She looked over to the side to see Tony and Angela arguing; apparently she had distracted him as much as the other way around. Great.

“I’m just observing my art work,” Lindsay said as she looked back at her principal. “I’m really proud of it.”

“Uh huh,” Ms. Lawson said doubtfully. “And why do you have your lipstick in your hand?”

“I had just been re-applying it.”

Lindsay heard the sound of feet as Tony ran over, looking very apologetic. “Ms. Lawson! We were just here to see everyone’s posters, that’s all!”

“And that’s why you felt the need to run over here to tell me that,” she replied dryly. She turned her eyes to Lindsay and said, “I saw what you were doing. You were about to vandalize school property.”

 _“Lindsay!”_ Michael hissed, having just come over to see what the commotion was about, Gob following him.

“I tried to stop him,” Gob told Lindsay. 

“It’s fine. It's too late, anyways,” Lindsay replied before looking back at her principal.

“Give me the lipstick,” Ms. Lawson said, holding out her hand. 

“Why? I didn’t do anything with it.”

“But you intended to.” 

Lindsay’s heart started to race as she looked around. They were definitely starting to draw a crowd and she felt sick to her stomach. Getting talked down to in front of everyone? She wasn’t okay with that. _Bluths_ weren't okay with that.

Channeling all her Bluth pride, Lindsay stood up taller and looked back at her principal.

Ms. Lawson raised her eyebrows as Lindsay stood firm. “Hand it over.”

“No,” Lindsay said defiantly. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said _no,”_ Lindsay repeated. “My lipstick didn’t do anything and, even if it did, it’s _my_ painting and I can do what I want with _my_ artwork.”

 _“Lindsay!_  Michael hissed again. "What are you _doing?"_

“Michael, I didn’t even _want_ this poster in this contest. Not this way. And she wouldn't let me withdraw it,” she said. She turned to Ms. Lawson, her heart pounding even faster in her chest. “I made something real, and personal—”

“And disgusting and unflattering—”

“You know what’s disgusting about it?” Lindsay asked. “It’s disgusting that you wanted to censor it. It’s disgusting that I poured my heart and soul into a personal statement only for _you_ to say it was unpleasant. But, you know what? The truth is unpleasant.”

“The project was student life, and you turned it into a joke about eating disorders—”

“It wasn’t a _joke,”_ Tony said.

Lindsay agreed, “It wasn’t a joke. The only joke is that you can’t see that the person in the picture is _me.”_

Ms. Lawson fell silent for a moment, her eyes widening slightly. “…What?”

“It’s me,” Lindsay said firmly, her jaw set. “I didn’t realize…I didn’t _mean_ to make it me, but I did. That girl was me. Everyone…everyone thought I was so happy. So bubbly. So…so _perfect._ Because I wanted them to think that. Because I tricked everyone—literally _everyone_ —into thinking I was. But…but I wasn’t perfect. And…” Lindsay looked over at the painting, blinking fast as her eyes started to water, “And I wasn’t happy.” 

As everyone watched her in silence, Lindsay turned back to her principal. “I let everyone tell me how to act and what to wear and who to be. I tried _so hard_ to be perfect. And it was an uphill battle, because I had a stupid _beak_ of a nose, but at least a nose job fixed that, right? But I was always taller and bigger than everyone, no matter _what_ I did. So, I did _exactly_ what that poem said. More often than I’d like to admit." She paused for a moment as both of her brothers looked down guiltily at the floor. "And I still…I still feel that way. Sometimes. I still can’t eat in front of my mom without wanting to…I’m still not completely okay."

After another pause, Lindsay defiantly said, "But I’m happy now. Happier than I've been in a long time, now that I’m not trying to pretend that everything’s perfect. Because that means I don’t have to be perfect or happy all the time.

“And when I finally made something good out of something awful I did, when I made something that expressed _my_ truth, you _destroyed_ it,” Lindsay continued, her eyes still watery, but with a ton of fire behind them. “So, I’m going to destroy it right back.”

Lindsay turned around to finish the job, but Ms. Lawson grabbed Lindsay’s wrist. “You turned this in, so this is our property now. So, now you’re vandalizing school property.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. That _definitely_ didn’t sound right. He heard a few murmurs of the few passersby that had gathered and he saw Angela looking extremely confused as she watched the whole thing go down. Gob looked uncomfortable and uncertain, looking towards his brother.

Michael looked like he was thinking as he looked between his sister, who was still trying to pull her wrist out of her principal’s grasp, and said principal. Finally, he drew himself up and looked at his principal. “Ms. Lawson,” Michael started, “wasn’t this contest voluntary? That was my understanding.”

Ms. Lawson arched her eyebrows, as did Lindsay. Was her brother actually standing up to her? To an authority figure?

“Well…yes, it _was_ voluntary.”

“But you made them enter it anyways?” Michael asked.

Ms. Lawson let go of Lindsay’s wrist as she explained, “It was for their own benefit; it was a good piece of art that we wanted to give a chance to represent our school.”

“But it was against their will,” Michael said firmly.

“Well, yes, but—”

“And now you’re claiming the artwork belongs to you and to the school?”

“It’s entered under our school name—”

“And _our_ names!” Tony said quickly. “When we asked explicitly to be left out of it if it was changed.”

Michael smirked ever so slightly. “So, let’s make sure I have all the facts. You took their poster from them, altered the context, showed it against their will, and are now threatening discipline because they ‘defaced’ their _own_ property, which you admit to stealing?”

Ms. Lawson looked shocked. Lindsay did as well, but she had a large smile on her face as she looked at her twin. Ms. Lawson stammered, “That’s…that’s not what happened.”

“That’s what it sounds like to me. And it definitely sounds like a violation of freedom of expression _and_ civil liberties,” Michael said matter-of-fact.

“What—”

“I think if you want to avoid the possibility of a lawsuit, I’d let them do whatever they want with the project,” Michael continued. “This may be Newport Beach, but a judge certainly won’t look fondly on someone who stole someone’s artwork and changed it, especially not someone like my sister—judges and juries are very sympathetic to pretty blondes, especially when they cry. And they're not going to like to hear that  _you_   made her cry and admit such personal details to try to justify her work—which _is_ good.” He turned to Lindsay and smiled slightly. “… _Really_ good.”

Lindsay smiled at her brother, looking genuinely touched. “Thank you.” 

Michael dropped his smile as he turned back to the principal. “So, if I were you, I’d let them do whatever they want with their own work.” Lindsay crossed her arms and smirked in victory at their principal. Tony gave Michael an extremely impressed look before turning back to the woman as well.

As frustrated as she looked, she seemed to realize Michael _did_ have a point. With a tight jaw, she said, “Very well. Do as you like.”

After a beat, Lindsay took down the poster and threw it in the nearby trashcan, making it clear she didn’t want it in the contest. Their principal nodded and then went on her way, leaving them all alone. Seeing as the show was over, other people who had gathered around started to leave as well.

Lindsay turned to Michael and said, “Excuse me for pulling a Gob, but…” With that, she wrapped her arms around her twin tightly, resting her chin on his shoulder. _“Thank you,”_ she whispered.

Michael, after a moment, wrapped his arms around her back. “You’re welcome,” he murmured. He locked eyes with Tony and, after a moment, Tony nodded in thanks as well, offering him a small smile. Michael offered one back with a nod as well.

When Lindsay finally pulled away, she did her best to discreetly wipe under her eyes, though a small sniff gave her away. “You okay?” Tony asked quietly.

Lindsay nodded quickly. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine.” She sniffed again and smiled. “I’m really good, actually. That…that felt good to say.” 

Tony smiled sympathetically at her. “I bet.” After a moment, he added, “I’m really proud of you, you know.” Lindsay raised her eyebrows as if to ask _really?_ “I really am.”

Slowly, Lindsay smiled back. “…Thanks.” 

“Me, too,” Gob said. He looked around said, “But can we leave now? This place is bringing back memories of algebra…” Gob shuddered and Lindsay laughed.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

* * *

Tony put in his bookmark and closed his book as he heard the door to the bakery jingle open. He opened his mouth to start a greeting, but stopped himself when he saw it was Angela.

The two stared at each other for a while. Finally, Angela said, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Angela walked up to the counter and Tony said, “I figured you’d have a date right now.”

“I cancelled,” Angela said. Tony nodded, but didn’t say anything. “I figured Lindsay would be here.”

“She had a more important matter to attend to,” Tony said civilly. He wasn’t going to tell his sister that Lindsay was starting work with a therapist. 

Angela nodded. As Tony absentmindedly wiped the counter, Angela bit back a sigh. She wanted to say _something_ to her brother, at least explain why she had been acting so crazy, but, as much as she liked to talk, admitting how bitchy she was acting wasn’t something she particularly wanted to do. 

And, see, Tony wanted to apologize for what he had said. He felt really bad about it, just like he knew Angela felt bad about freaking out on him, too. But he really,  _really_ didn't want to talk through it. He had dealt with enough emotions lately, anyways.

After a deep breath, Angela said, “Listen, Tony—”

“You should’ve seen this customer that came in today,” Tony interrupted. “This guy asked if we made oatmeal walnut cookies without the walnuts.”

Angela raised her eyebrows. “…What?”

“That was his exact wording: oatmeal walnut cookies without the walnuts, because he has a nut allergy.”

“So…regular oatmeal cookies?”

“See, that’s what _I_ thought. But when I tried saying that we make plain oatmeal as well as oatmeal raisin cookies, he said it wasn’t the same.”

“What?” Angela laughed. “That makes no sense.”

“I know!” Tony sat up on the counter and said, “It was the weirdest conversation I ever had. He then asked me if the sticky buns had nuts in them.”

Angela raised her eyebrows and sat on the counter as well. “That’s pretty standard for a sticky bun.”

“Right? But I figured it was fair enough, so I told him there were pecans,” Tony said. “And then he went and bought some.”

“What? No!”

“I told him they had pecans, which were a nut, but he told me they _weren’t_ a nut, they were a _legume.”_

“Oh, god,” Angela laughed. “He was thinking of peanuts.”

“I figured. And I tried telling him that, but he insisted he was right and wouldn’t take no for an answer…but before he left, I saw him throw them out, because I think he realized he was wrong.”

“So, he couldn’t just admit that he was wrong, he had to go and waste an entire sticky bun.”

Tony nodded grimly. “I know. It was awful.”

“Oh, god, last time I was here, I had a girl ask for _sugar free_ cookies,” Angela said suddenly. “The day of low-carb diets is coming, Tonio.”

Tony shuddered. “God help us.”

The two of them spent the rest of Tony’s shift laughing and talking, any resentment they had about their fight completely forgotten. Neither of them needed an apology to know the other one was sorry. That was just how they worked.

And, maybe if Angela wanted to spend more time with her brother, it was time for her to make the effort instead of just expecting him to be around. She figured it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! First of all, so sorry this took so long to get up. I've been having some major writer's block and, to top it off, we had a LOT of people leaving at work, so it's been INSANE and took away from some of my writing time and often left me too exhausted to write after work. Things are slowing down so I hope to get piano fic (that fucking mONSTER) up soon and hopefully be able to update slightly more regularly! Though I've probably just jinxed myself there. Oops.  
> Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter! It got a bit angstier than planned, and definitely angstier than the original episode given Lindsay's relationship with eating disorders, but I guess that should be expected with me. I hope it turned out alright for you guys and I have to say that, if you think that it's weird and not everything is resolved, well, you're right. There's always more to come!
> 
> Second of all, I have full casting ideas in my head for the Wunderlich family, except for the twins. I know who they are in the adult versions in piano fic, but can't find the right ages for them in this verse. But if you're interested, [here's a post](https://valenciaperez.tumblr.com/private/187276762864/tumblr_pwu0xo9KcF1r6dfgp) of their castings (with place holders for the twins).
> 
> I also apologize that it's not heavy on the Blunder. I didn't put this ep originally in my plans because Trent is literally only in the car scene on the way to the school (and is then told to stay in the car), but when I was rewatching and thinking about my casting, I knew I HAD to explore this ep with Lindsay. 
> 
> Anyways, again, I hope you like it and please let me know! Thank you to everyone who's reading this, you're my faves <3


	4. What Do You Think People Do on Dates?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on "Speedtrapped" (3x10) with bits of "Pinch Sitter" (1x08) and "Gifted" (2x08)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe I'm _letting_ you do this. I can't believe _we're_ doing this…Hey, when did you learn to drive?"  
> "God, Daria, what do you think people _do_ on dates?"  
> -Daria and Quinn Morgendorffer, "Speedtrapped" (3x10)

The Wunderlich dinner was going the same as usual. Pip told everyone about her and Mike’s day; Angela talked about cheer practice and dodged questions about her college applications; Tony gave his usual answers to his mom’s prodding questions; and Lizzie, of course, had a million different tests and grades to brag about. It was to be expected of a kid who had skipped a grade and was in all the “gifted” classes.

But when they moved onto Daniel, things got a little bit more interesting.

Not, like, mental illness interesting. He hadn’t had a manic or major depressive episode for a while, thankfully. But, like, normal interesting. If that made sense.

Daniel looked at his older sister and Chiara nodded. He then told the table, “So, Ki and I are moving out.”

Lizzie’s silverware dropped on her plate as she stared across the table at her brother. “What?”

The twins looked up at their oldest sister with wide, sad eyes. “You’re really leaving us, Kiki?” Pip asked, looking absolutely devastated. Chiara was basically the twins’ second mom since she was sixteen years older than them; Tony was pretty sure the only reason she had decided to move with them was because of the twins. And, you know, the whole eldest sibling wanting to take care of everyone deal.

“We’re not going to move too far,” Chiara promised her baby siblings. “We’re still going to work at the bakery and still come and visit you guys and have dinners. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

“It’s about _time,”_ Angela said with a snort. “I mean, you guys are in your 20s; it’s kinda lame to still be living at home.” Tony nodded in agreement. He couldn’t imagine still living at home when he was either of their ages.

“Hey, I would’ve left sooner, but ma and dad still don’t trust me living alone with sharp objects,” Daniel said with a blasé shrug. 

“And everyone thinks _I’m_ morbid,” Tony muttered. 

 _“Wait,”_ Angela said suddenly. “Does this mean I get my own room?”

Tony froze as he thought about it. While the three boys shared a room, the girls had split up in groups of two with Pip and Lizzie in one room and Chiara and Angela in another.

“Well…yes,” Giulia said, bracing herself for the reactions to come.

“Oh my _god,_ that’s not fair!” Tony protested immediately.

“It is _totally_ fair!” Angela declared. “I’m the _oldest_ of the siblings left; it’s only fair I get my own room for _once.”_

“You act like any of us know what it’s like to have a room to ourselves,” Tony said bitterly crossing his arms. He looked over at Lizzie, expecting her to say something. She was the most likely to complain about something like that besides him. But, interestingly enough, she was looking down at her plate with a pensive look on her face.

Tony was distracted from thinking about his moody sister when his dad said, “Regardless of room placements, this means other things will be changing around here.”

“Right,” Giulia said. “We’re working on getting another car.” Angela excitedly whispered, _"Yes!"_ as her mom continued, “Just as a way to make sure we all have access to transportation at the same time.”

“I’ll still bike to work most days,” Daniel said.

“Right,” Giulia said. “But we expect that you two,” she looked at Tony and Angela, “will step up around here and take on more responsibilities.”

“We already work at the bakery and help clean and stuff,” Angela said. “What else do you need?”

“Well, with the car, we’re hoping that you can help get the twins and Lizzie to their after school clubs and such,” Giulia said. She looked at Tony and said, “So, it might be time to consider getting you a driver’s license, too.”

That made both Daniel and Angela laugh out loud. 

“Ma, you want them to make it to places on-time and alive, right?” Daniel asked.

Tony hit him on the arm. “Shut up.”

“Sorry, Tonio, but he’s right,” Angela said. 

And, really, he was. Back in New York, Tony had gotten his learner’s permit and his three oldest siblings took him to the school parking lot to start teaching him the basics. Despite how slow he drove, he ended up jerking around so much he aggravated his own motion sickness and nearly threw up.

Daniel had never let him live it down. Of course. Because that’s what Daniel did.

He hadn’t fared much better when his parents tried to teach him some more. And, since he had plans to live in New York City, he had declared he didn’t need to learn how to drive anyways. He’d get by on the subway and buses and his own two feet, thank you very much.

Of course, California was definitely a different story. Driving was required to get most anywhere. The only places he could get to on foot or by bike was the school or Lindsay’s place, and neither of those were particularly fun walks, either.

“I can learn,” Tony muttered. “If you guys can do it, it can’t be that hard.” 

“Whatever you say, Tony,” Daniel said, still smirking.

Tony was about to snark something back at him when Lizzie suddenly stood up. “May I be excused? I have some homework to start.”

“Sure, sweetie,” Giulia said. Lizzie smiled slightly at her before going to the kitchen and clearing off her still mostly full plate.

* * *

“How’re the driving lessons going?” Lindsay asked Tony.

Tony sighed dramatically and said, “Just shoot me.”

“I’m pretty sure that with you being Jewish _and_ bi, shooting you would be considered a hate crime,” Lindsay said, not even looking up from the sculpture she was currently gluing colored, glass shards onto. 

“And with your parents being your parents, a jury would easily believe that it was,” Tony said.

“Yeah, and I don’t need that on my record yet. I’ll wait until I’m an undiscovered artist and I need to boost my rep. Crazy sells.”

“Good plan,” Tony agreed, laying down on Lindsay’s bed.

Lindsay looked over at him for a moment before going back to her sculpture. "So it's really that bad, huh?"

He sighed again and said, “Everyone’s taken me out now—well, everyone I can legally drive with. With my ma, she’s just worrying so much the whole time and giving me so much direction that I can’t concentrate. With dad, he ends up going on these tangents and we end up talking about things that aren’t even related to driving. Chiara’s like ma but worse, and Daniel just makes fun of me the whole time, because that’s what Daniel does. And I bet that Angie could do a better job than any of them, but legally they have to be over 21 or whatever, so she can't teach me…” He crossed his arms and said, “I hate driving.”

“Of course you do,” Lindsay said.

“What do you mean?”

Lindsay continued to work on her sculpture as she reasoned, “No one likes things they aren’t good at immediately, first of all. Second of all, you were obviously scarred from your driving attempt in Long Island, and that combined with how you have motion sickness problems means you’re bound to hate it. Third of all, you don't like when you can't control things, so I'm assuming you get super tense and shit and try to control the car too much.”

“…That was freaky accurate.”

“It’s a girl thing; I can read people,” Lindsay said, still not looking up from her sculpture. After a moment, she laughed a little and admitted, “Plus, you’re a little like Michael that way, which makes it easier for me.”

“I think I should be offended by that,” Tony said.

“I just mean that you’re both controlling personalities. You like to have things go according to plan. Nothing wrong with that. I know that Gob and I wouldn’t have made it this far without him because he's like that, even if it's annoying." Tony made a noise and she said, "Hey, you're not as bad as him and I like hanging out with you more if that helps."

Finally looking up from her project, she segued, “Speaking of hanging out and driving…wanna join me for a road trip? I promise you’d get front row privileges so you won’t throw up again.”

“It’s normally not _that_ bad; it was just the lack of air and all the smell of weed and everything—”

“I know, I know,” Lindsay said. Tony had defended himself a _lot_ since that incident. “But anyways, Gob’s band has a gig that's ridiculously close to Tijuana. I offered to chauffeur him since we thought we’d cross the border before the show and he can drink there legally, so, yeah, he'd get drunk. But that also means a few hours at the beach and in all the tourist shops, then we go to the gig, then we go back home.”

“I’m not sure my parents will go for that.”

“Just don’t tell them where we’re going. Duh,” Lindsay said. “I mean, I like your parents and all, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them. Just tell them you’re chilling at my place.” 

“That _is_ how I’ve gotten to see most of the other gigs,” Tony reasoned. His parents weren’t too strict with his curfew when Lindsay was involved. They liked her and they were all too supportive of Tony having a friend to begin with, so whenever he said they were hanging out, they normally all but pushed him out of the house, no questions asked. “But I’m not much of a beach person.”

“But imagine how you’d get to see my brother at the beach and all the sparks could fly…”

He’d never admit it, but Tony definitely imagined a scene that bore a striking resemblance to the opening scene of _Grease._

Tony was John Travolta because the hair color, but he was still the one who was going to take the photo of Gob in front of a sand castle.

A _shirtless_ Gob in front of a sand castle…

“I _could_ get some good photos,” Tony murmured out of nowhere, still picturing the beach scene.

Continuing that line of thought, Lindsay declared, “Right! Think of all the cool pictures you could get in prep for your photography class! And I could totally get some artistic inspiration, too!”

Once he finished the fantasy in his head, Tony was sold. “When is it?”

“Next Saturday.”

Tony groaned. “Ugh. Can’t do it. My parents are working on training Lizzie to help out at the bakery, so they’ll be showing her the ropes while Daniel and Kiki go apartment hunting, which means Angie and I have twin duty.” It was the first time in forever that the two of them had the day off at the same time, which he would normally be excited about, but the whole baby sitting thing and missing an opportunity to go to Mexico sucked.

“Bummer,” Lindsay said. “Well…I’ll bring you back a souvenir. I’m thinking one of those T-shirts that makes it look like you’re wearing a bikini. Or maybe a shot glass; I haven’t decided yet.”

“Maybe just get a picture of your brother in front of a sand castle,” Tony said wistfully.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

* * *

Despite missing the Mexico trip and having to watch the twins, Tony was pretty excited to have a day to spend with Angela. It was the first time in _forever_ that both of them had the day off. The twins were normally easily amused by watching a movie or playing a video game, so, really, the work was rather minimal. 

Well, as long as they got the right balance of sweets. Pip was hyper and talkative enough that giving her _too_ much sugar was just asking for trouble; sugar highs came easy for her and made her act much closer to six than the nearly ten year old she was. Michael wasn't much better, and he always ended up crashing  _hard_ afterwards. 

Despite this, both of them still required a certain amount of sugar to stay satisfied. So, Tony and Angela made the four of them pancakes for breakfast, which worked out well in their favor. Pip and Michael were both happy, but they weren’t bouncing off the walls. That was a good start to the day.

Once breakfast was done, Tony sat the twins in front of the TV and put on their VHS of _Grease—_ he figured he was allowed to at least watch his fantasy opening scene even if he couldn't live it—and Angela made popcorn. In between singing along to the songs and making snarky comments on the plot, Tony and Angela took some dumb quizzes from her old _Cosmo_ magazines and just got to hang out in their pajamas. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he just got to hang out in sweats all day.

“God, I _love_ Frenchie,” Angela said with a small sigh as the character revealed her hair that she had accidentally made pink. Making sure the twins weren’t listening to her, she quietly told Tony, “I know I’m such a Rizzo to everyone, but Frenchie might be the only character who I’ve ever seen with a dream like mine. A dream also not supported by her parents.”

“Except you’re actually good at it,” Tony said. “You wouldn’t turn your hair pink on accident.”

“Only on purpose,” Angela said with a small laugh. But she frowned a second later and said, “You know, all the college applications I've done? Well…I—” She was cut off as the phone rang and she sighed. She really wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, and she knew the call was most likely for her. She got more phone calls just from guys wanting to ask her out than the rest of the household got calls combined.

“I’ll get it,” Tony said. Angela thanked him as he got off the couch and answered. “Hello, Angela’s not available—”

“Tony! Thank god it’s you.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Lindsay?” 

“I can’t talk long, because I'm kinda in jail?"

“You’re _where?”_

“Jail.”

“I…how?”

Lindsay sighed. “Like, we hadn’t even made Tijuana yet, it’s so stupid. But I was going a _little_ over the speed limit and got pulled over. And I even tried to _cry_ to get out of it and it _didn’t work,_ can you believe that?” She scoffed and said, “Anyways, since we’re from out of the county, we have to pay the fine now and in cash, which we don’t have.” 

“How much is it?”

“Just 150.”

“I _definitely_ don’t have that—”

“Relax! We have that much. Gob already called Michael about it, but Michael’s being a dick and says he needs to study, so he won’t get us,” Lindsay explained. “So, that’s where you come in.”

“What?”

“You go to our place to get the money and then come down here and bail us out.”

Tony pointed out, “I can’t drive! And I have the twins!”

“Michael can watch them; they just need a movie or something, right? That’s what we do with Buster.”

“…Yeah, that’s true.”

“And Angela can drive, can’t she? If not, we can pay for a cab.” Sensing her friend’s hesitation, she said, _“Please,_ Tony? I know I can survive this place and Gob can sleep anywhere, but a lot of his bandmates are such fucking _softies.”_ Lindsay held the phone out towards the cell the band was in and Tony could definitely hear the sound of one of the guys crying. “Besides,” Lindsay continued once she brought the phone back to her ear, “our parents will freak out if they find out and probably try to use our lawyers to get out of it, but we have the _worst_ fucking attorneys.” 

Tony sighed and said, “Fine. Where's this place?”

Once she told him the address, Lindsay added, “Oh, and Michael also grabbed Gob’s songwriting notebook at his request. Can you get that when you get the money? He thinks this can inspire him, apparently.”

Tony agreed and got off the phone, already feeling a headache forming. After taking a deep breath, he entered the living room and saw the twins and Angela looking at him expectantly. 

“We paused it for you,” Angela said. 

Tony looked between his siblings and the paused movie and held back a sigh. 

“…You guys up for a change in plans?”

* * *

Angela sat in the car as Tony took the twins into the Bluth mansion, too pissed off at the "change in plans" to even check out how nice that place was. And it looked _really_ fucking nice just from the outside, too.

The twins looked up at the house with wide eyes. Apparently they were freaked out enough that Mike grabbed his sister’s hand, as if they were going to get lost otherwise. “Buster lives here?” Pip asked in awe.

“Yeah, he does, but I’m not sure he’s here today.” Tony stopped at the door and turned to the twins, “But, if ma and dad ask, you have a playdate with him, okay?”

“Why?”  

“Because they think you’re having a last minute play date with him,” Tony said. The twins made eye contact with each other and then looked back at Tony. 

“And what do we get in exchange for our silence?” Pip asked, sounding way too mature for her age. Mike raised a challenging eyebrow at his brother as well. 

Tony’s eyebrows raised back at them. “I really have to pay for _Michael’s_ silence? We get it for free every day.”

Pip crossed her arms and her twin glared at Tony. The were actually weirdly intimidating at that moment. So Tony promised, “Fine. I’ll give you five bucks each.” They didn't get much of an allowance or anything, so he figured that'd be enough.

Pip stood up a bit taller and said, “Fifteen.”

Tony countered, “Ten.”

The twins looked at each other, obviously having one of their creepy telepathic conversations with each other. Finally, Pip turned back to Tony and offered her hand. “Deal.”

Tony shook both their hands before ringing the doorbell. “Where did you guys learn to negotiate like that?”

“Daniel,” Pip said simply.

Somehow, that weirdly made sense.

“Hey, extra two dollars each if you stay quiet and calm for him,” Tony added. He realized Pip could easily freak him out if she talked as much as she usually did.

“Deal,” Pip said with a serious nod of her head.

Michael opened the door seconds later. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tony said. He moved the twins in front of him and said, “So, Michael, this is _my_ twin named Michael, but you can call him Mike if you want.” Pip opened her mouth to interrupt, but Mike pulled on her hand and she quickly closed it. Right. She wanted that extra money. “And this is Pip.”

Michael, the Bluth one, looked at the two twins. “Uh…hi.” They both waved silently at him, both looking innocent and sweet. Michael looked back up at Tony with a confused look.

“Ange and I had babysitting duty, so Lindsay said you could watch them,” Tony said quickly.

“God,” Michael groaned. “I _told_ her I have to study. I’m taking the SAT next week—”

“If Buster’s here, they can play with him; they’re in the same class and are friends with him.” Both Pip and Mike nodded in response.

Michael shook his head, “He’s at the club with our mother.”

Tony quickly insisted, “All you need to do is put on a movie for them. They’re well behaved kids, I promise.” Michael still looked hesitant and Tony added, “Look at them! Aren’t they sweet?” Pip gave Michael her most charming smile, the one that even Tony and Lizzie could agree was really cute and endearing. 

Michael looked down at the kids. Okay, they couldn’t be _that_ bad. They were probably even more mature than Buster, since that wasn’t saying much, which would make watching them even easier. Finally, he looked at Tony and agreed, “Fine. Come on in.”

Tony let out a sigh in relief as Michael opened the door farther and let them come in. “Thanks, man.” 

“You should’ve asked him for money. He’s paying us twelve bucks _each_ to say we’re playing with Buster,” Pip said cheerily. Hey, Tony didn’t say she had to be completely silent, after all. 

While Michael snorted and led them to the kitchen, Tony rolled his eyes and told her, “Michael has a _lot_ more money than I do, so he better not be asking that.”

“Actually, unlike my siblings, I tend to _work_ for my money,” Michael said crossly, “and this is my first Saturday off in forever.”

“It’s _my_ first Saturday off with Angela in forever,” Tony fired back. “And I know you have the same credit limit that Lindsay and Gob have.” Michael pursed his lips—definitely an inherited trait from his mom—but didn’t argue back. He knew Tony was right on that front.

Instead, he went to the counter and grabbed the envelope of money and a leather-bound book. “Here’s the money and the songbook,” Michael said. 

“Thanks,” Tony said, rifling through the money to make sure there was enough.

“I put in some extra just in case they got the amount wrong,” Michael said, crossing his arms. “…And if you and Angela need gas or something.”

“…Thanks,” Tony said again, a little surprised. He didn’t think Michael would care that much. “Well, I should get going so they can make their gig.”

“Right.” Michael looked back at the twins and then back at Tony apprehensively.

Tony told him, “I promise, they’re very easy. Just get them a snack and lunch at some point and put them in front of the TV.” Michael nodded and Tony turned to his kid siblings. “Be good, okay?” The twins nodded at him. “I’ll see you later.” Before Tony could stop them, they hugged him at the same time. “Guys, it’s only for a few hours,” he said, but he ended up hugging them back. Michael couldn’t help but grin a little. Despite having such an indifferent attitude, Tony actually did seem to like his siblings. Michael could relate.

But, soon after that, Tony was out the door and the twins were looking up at Michael expectedly. And, okay, Michael knew that he wanted to be a dad someday. Hell, sometimes he felt like he was more of a dad to his siblings than their own father was—he was the one who had to give Gob pep talks, after all. But now that he was alone with two kids, he felt very nervous about the whole thing.

Eventually he asked, “So…TV?” The twins nodded and Michael nodded back. “Right…” Figuring he shouldn’t leave them alone in the house, he quickly grabbed his SAT study materials and then led them to the living room. Gob practiced his music during most of Michael's study sessions, so he figured having the TV on wouldn’t be much worse. 

And, at first, it was fine. The twins found some movie playing and Michael went through his SAT prep book with ease. He was feeling pretty good about his first section of his practice test and, as a reward, pulled out a large container from his backpack. 

“What’s that?” Pip asked, her eyes wide.

“Oh, uh, candy beans,” Michael said. “They’re my favorite candy. It helps keep me motivated when I’m studying.” After a beat, he offered, “You guys want some? For a snack?” That would work as a snack, right?

Both Pip and Mike nodded. “Do you guys want juice or something, too?” Buster, of course, had juice daily, so he figured they had to be at an age where that was still normal. Again, both twins nodded.

So Michael, being the good host/father figure he was, went to the kitchen and got them each a juice box and a bowl. He went back to the living room and poured a fair amount of candy beans in the bowls for them, almost filling each bowl up to the brim.

“…Is that enough for a snack?” Michael asked. 

“That’s enough, thank you,” Pip said politely. Michael smiled; he totally had this kid thing down.

But as Michael went back to his SAT prep book, the twins looked at each other with matching, mischievous grins. The two of them were _never_ given that much sugar in one sitting. Imitating what they’d seen their older family members do, they gently knocked their juice boxes against each other and took long sips from the straws before diving eagerly into their large supply of candy beans. 

This was going to be a _fun_ afternoon.

* * *

“You _owe_ me, Tonio,” Angela said.

“That’s about the hundredth time you’ve said that,” Tony replied with a sigh as he looked at the window of the car.

“And that’s because _you owe me,”_ Angela insisted yet again. “Of all the things I planned on doing on my day off, it was _not_ driving out in the middle of nowhere to some place outside of the OC—”

“Don’t call it that,” Tony said on reflex after being chastised for calling it that by the Bluths. At Angela’s look in response, he said, “Sorry.”

Angela rolled her eyes as they approached a stoplight. “This is the first day we’ve both had off for, like, _ever._ No school, no work, _nothing._ And now we’re gonna have to spend all day bailing _your_ friend out of jail.”

“It wasn’t her fault!” Tony said. “She was speeding just a _little!”_

“She was still speeding, then,” Angela said. “Still breaking the law.” 

“Everyone speeds. It’s not a big deal.”

“Everyone’s buying Furbies now; does that mean _everyone_ should have them?”

“God, no,” Tony said with a shudder. Those things freaked him out.

Angela couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his reaction, even if she was still mad. “Yeah, I hope the twins don’t ask for that for Hanukkah or anything.”

“I think Buster has some. Hopefully they’ll grow a fear for them by the time we pick them up,” Tony said. 

That just made Angela frown again. “You’re _so_ lucky ma and dad were cool with them having that ‘last minute playdate’.”

“I know,” Tony sighed. Angela just shook her head and turned on the CD she had put in the car. As soon as he heard a chorus of _la la la_ , he groaned. “Not the Spice Girls—”

“Forget it. This is the only music I can listen to,” Angela said firmly.

“Can you at least turn it down?”

“You’re _not_ the boss of me.”

“Aren’t they broken up now?” 

Angela just turned it up louder and, just to annoy Tony, loudly sang along, [ _“Colors of the world—spice up your life! Every boy and every girl—spice up your life!”_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wfpXI5PKlw)

Tony sighed and looked down at the notebook of Gob’s songs. It had a label on it saying, _Private! Do Not Read!_ He looked back over at Angie, who was still purposefully playing music she knew Tony hated, and then back at the notebook. A little peek wouldn’t hurt, right? Gob wasn’t the best at lyrics, but it had to be better than following the lyrics of the Spice Girls. Tony opened it up and looked over the melodies Gob had penned out, melodies he wouldn’t even be able to follow and chords he had never heard of—what made a chord diminished? He flipped through several pages that proved Gob actually _did_ seem to know something about music, even if his band didn’t always sound like he did. It took a while before he got to a page of lyrics.

 _My heart is like an open tomb_ _  
_ _That reads the tea leaves of its doom_

“…What?” Tony whispered to himself.

 _Soothe me with redemption’s love  
_ _Like a heatproof kitchen glove_

 _“God,_ I hope this is a first draft,” Tony muttered as he closed the book. That was probably enough for one session.

* * *

Gob wished he had a cigarette. Or his keyboard. Or a guitar. Or even his song notebook. Anything to distract him from the wait.

After her phone call, Lindsay had been allowed to tell him that Tony was on the way to their house to get the money and would be there ASAP. Gob knew all he had to do was wait at that point, but it was getting harder and harder to do with every passing second.

His agitation wasn’t helped by the fact that their drummer, Max, was still all bugged out. The cop had been nice as all get out and Max hadn’t had any interaction with him, but he was still panicked. 

Gob rolled his eyes as Max whined about something else. “Dude, calm down,” he told him as Nick their bassist, put a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder. 

“Shut up!” Max said, his eyes wide and paranoid.

“Dude, my sister’s friend’s gonna bring us the money and we’ll be out of here in no time,” Gob said. His voice was confident, even though he was nervous about Tony getting there, too. He wasn’t panicked because of their location or anything; he had been put in a couple of holding cells before and this was honestly one of the better ones. At least there weren’t loudmouth drunks with them or anything. It was literally just the band; Lindsay was in a separate one for women.

“We’re in _prison,_ dude!”

“We’re not in prison, we’re just in a holding cell,” Gob scoffed.

Max continued, “But of course _you’d_ be okay with being in a prison.”

Gob’s eyebrows furrowed together. “What does _that_ mean?”

Max shifted a little uncomfortably. Nick seemed to know what that meant and he looked awkward. Jesse, however, looked just as confused as Gob felt. 

“Well…” Max finally started. “I mean, guys like you like prison.”

“What?”

“…You know…” Max whispered, “‘Cause prison is like a gay dude’s paradise, right?”

Jesse’s mouth made a small “oh” in realization, Max avoided looking at Gob, and Nick still just looked awkward.

Gob, however, felt his heart stop beating for a moment.

“…Wh-wha…what are you talking about?” Gob stuttered. He forced out a laugh, loud and obviously fake and full of nerves, “I’m not…I’ve never—I’m not gay!” He tried laughing again, as if the idea was crazy. “This guy… _crazy._ You’re fucking _crazy,_ dude.”

Nick brought a hand to the back of his neck. “Gob, man…we’ve all seen you make-out with guys.”

“It’s true,” Jesse said. “Like, a _lot_ of guys.”

Gob’s eyes widened. He had thought he had snuck around successfully since they hadn’t said anything to him.

“Dude, it’s not like we’re not okay with you being gay—”

“I’m not—”

“It’s really okay, dude,” Jesse said, looking really sincere. Like some dumb puppy dog.

“We don’t care that you’re gay. It’s whatever," Nick said.

“It's actually kinda cool, 'cause it means more chicks for us,” Jesse said. The other two repeated the sentiments, but Gob's stomach lurched.

Gob didn’t _talk_ about his sexuality. Part of it was that he didn’t have the words.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to acknowledge the possible words for it.

Gob had slept with girls. Ever since he lost his virginity his freshman year of high school, he had fucked girls. Lots of girls. He was good at it.

But then he made out with a guy. It was right at the end of his junior year of high school, right before he turned eighteen, and everything just…it _sparked._ Not just the fireworks behind his closed eyelids or the tingling up his spine, but he felt that kiss spark a fire throughout his whole freaking _body._

Gob did his best to forget it. But, much like everything else in his life, Gob failed at staying away from something that felt so good. And, trust him, the tingling feeling only grew stronger when clothes were subtracted from the equation.

But it wasn’t like he never slept with girls again. And, like, how could he be gay if he could have sex with girls?

But how could he be straight if he liked sleeping with guys so much more?

All of it made his head hurt, which was enough to make him avoid the subject in its entirety. But, possibly more importantly, he just knew that, no matter how he felt about guys, he couldn’t be open about it. He couldn’t casually talk about liking guys, even with just his bandmates. He loved those guys—as bandmates and as friends only, nothing more, because they were _so_ not his type—but if they talked about it and then the word got out to his parents…

His parents hated him enough already. He didn’t need to give them anymore ammo.

“Look. Guys. I told you. I’m. Not. _Gay,”_ Gob said firmly. “And we’re not in fucking prison, we’re in a fucking holding cell, so calm down. If anyone’s acting like a homo, it’s _you,_ Max. So stop fucking _crying.”_ With that, Gob went to sit in the farthest corner of the cell, his heart still racing as he tried to pretend like that conversation never happened.

* * *

Unlike Gob, Lindsay _did_ have something to keep her occupied. She had a pen with her. A pen and lots of open wall space to draw on. Hey, other people had scratched out some graffiti, so why couldn’t she mark up the walls with some green ink?

She figured any ink would do, but she happened to only have a green pen in her pocket when she got thrown in the holding cell.

Feeling a bit pissed off with the justice system, Lindsay drew a purposefully upside down and backwards American flag, so the stars were on the bottom right corner. Between the green color, the backwards direction, and the fact she was drawing on the wall of a holding cell, she felt like she was at least _somewhat_ sticking it to the man. It was art and rebellion all in one, kinda like her bulimic poster had been, and she liked that.

See, Lindsay was starting to realize that her art wasn't just good. It could have power, it could have meaning, it could  _change_ things. That poster certainly did, and maybe it was just a dumb drawing that the jail would paint over eventually, but she couldn't help but feel empowered through her sketch of the fucked up American flag.

So she worked carefully and diligently, trying to line the stars up from memory and make them all the same size and make the stripes straight without a ruler. Lindsay was so focused on her work she didn’t notice another woman get thrown into the holding cell with her.

“That’s not bad.”

Lindsay jumped slightly in surprise and looked behind her. The woman looked exactly what you’d expect from someone in a prison: large, muscle-y, scraggly hair, and messed up clothes. She smelled a bit like vodka, a smell Lindsay associated with her mom, a smell that put her on edge.

“Thanks,” Lindsay replied.

“I want it.”

Lindsay raised her eyebrow. “I’m not sure I can take it off the wall, but I guess I could make a copy when I get out of here—”

“I don’t want it for my _wall.”_ The woman pointed at her upper arm. Lindsay slowly realized what she meant and her eyes widened.

“…Oh…”

* * *

Once Angela’s CD ended, she tuned the radio to some dumb pop station, forcing Tony to listen to all the bubblegum pop hits being played on the radio. And, okay, Tony could enjoy _some_ pop music—it could be argued that some of the older stuff he liked was considered pop in its time—but the pop music of the day really just _annoyed_ him. 

Angela knew that, of course, which was why she happily sang along to every single hit the station played.

[ _“I saw the sign and it opened up my mind! And I am happy now, living without you—I left you all alone!”_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iqu132vTl5Y)

Tony had never been happier to pull into a truck stop as he was then. He nearly jumped out of the car, but Angela waited until the song was done before turning off the car and getting out herself. 

“Okay, so we should probably grab some snacks and water. And Michael gave us some cash for gas—”

“Cool. You pump it and I'll choose the snacks,” she said, giving him the keys. “I’ll meet you inside.”

By the time Tony finished pumping the gas, there was a car waiting to take his spot. Oh…oh shit. He tried to gesture to go around him, but the guy just honked at him. He tried again, but the guy seemed insistent. And who knew what kind of guys frequented truck stops and honked at people; the guy could’ve been a total _psycho._

So, Tony got into the car. He adjusted the seat and mirrors and buckled in before finally starting the car. He took a deep breath, his heart already thudding hard in his chest as he tried to move out of park.

Why wasn’t it moving out of park?

Oh, god, did the car break down? How were they going to explain that to his parents? They were going to _kill_ him—

Oh. Wait. He didn’t have his foot on the brake. That was why it wasn't shifting.

Tony laughed nervously to himself and then brought his foot to the brake and pulled out of park and into drive.

And even though he was only going five miles an hour and only moving to the closest parking space, when he got there, he felt more proud of himself than ever. At least the proudest he felt in a _car._ He pumped his fist in the air before putting the car back in park. Once he was out and the car was locked, he nearly ran inside to find Angela so he could tell her the news.

He found Angela sitting at one of the truck stop restaurant’s tables, a plastic bag of snacks in front of her. And, in typical Angela fashion, she had also managed to get a guy to sit at the table with her. He was the cowboy type—more like a cowboy _stereotype._ Like, complete with the hat and a fucking guitar next to him.

“Ange,” Tony said as he got to the table. “Who’s this?”

“This is Travis.” She turned to the cowboy—Travis, apparently—and said, “Travis, this is my little brother, Tony.” 

Travis tipped his hat towards Tony and said in a thick southern drawl, “Howdy.”

There was no way this guy was real.

Angela turned back to Tony and innocently said, “I just sat down because you were taking so long. Then Travis came in and we got to talking.”

“I couldn’t just leave such a pretty gal all on her lonesome,” Travis said. “I know you city gals are used to takin’ care of yourself, but I don’t think you should have to do that.”

Tony wanted to throw up at that, honestly, but Angela giggled. “Isn’t his accent the _cutest?_ It’s to _die_ for.” Her own New York accent came out rather thick as she said those words.

“Heck, I think you’ve got a pretty cute accent there, too, Angela.”

“Thank you,” Angela said, looking at him dreamingly. Tony could admit he was a pretty good looking guy, if a little too pretty-boy for his taste.

And a little too interested in preying on a young woman who had been sitting alone.

“Angie—”

“Travis, why don’t you finish that story you were telling me? The one about the bull?” Angela asked.

Tony rolled his eyes as Travis launched back into whatever story he had been telling. And it sounded like complete bull, no pun intended. Tony was pretty sure it was something straight out of _Little House on the Prairie._ Everything about the guy was just like he was just trying _so freaking hard,_ enough so that Tony couldn’t believe anything about him, from his outfit to his accent, was genuine. 

“Wow, Travis! What a great story,” Angela said, sounding enthralled. 

Tony looked at his sister and said, “Angie, come on. We have to bail out the band—”

“A band?” Travis said. “Hey, what a coincidence! I’m a musician myself.”

“Well, bust my legs and call me shorty,” Tony deadpanned. He looked back at his sister and said, “Seriously, Angela—”

“What kind of music do you play, Travis?” Angela asked, completely ignoring Tony.

“Mostly country music. You like Conway Twitty?”

“It’s practically the only music I listen to!”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Wait, I thought—”

“Shut _up,_ shorty,” Angela said as she shot him a glare. She turned back to Travis with a grin and said, “I’d love to hear you some time.”

“Well, I’m actually on my way to a gig right now, but my car got all busted up, so I need a ride…” He looked over at Angela hopefully.

“Where is it?” Angela asked. “It might be on our way—”

 _“No,”_ Tony said firmly. He grabbed Angela’s hand and said, “Good luck finding a ride, John Wayne, but we’re not taking any killers into our parents’ car.”

 _“Tony._ He’s not a _killer,”_ Angela said. She turned to Travis and said, “You’re not gonna murder us, are you?”

“Aw, heck, no.”

“See? All you have to do is ask,” Angela insisted. But Tony just pulled on her hand and, after some resistance, she rolled her eyes and followed him out, telling Travis good luck as she left.

Tony shook his head at her as they walked towards the car. “You were seriously about to get us _killed!”_

“Relax, Tony, he wasn’t dangerous. My instincts would’ve kicked in if he was,” Angela said with a roll of her eyes. “He was a bit _much,_ sure, but he wasn’t a killer of any kind.”

“Mom and dad would _crucify_ us if they knew—”

“Like taking their car on a 100-mile joy ride would be okay?”

“I barely even think you're responsible enough to be driving anymore—”

“And who should do the driving, huh? You? The guy without a license?” Angela asked. She raised an eyebrow and held out her palm, waiting for him to give her the keys. “You don’t get to say  _anything_ about driving or me flirting with guys. Why am I listening to you to begin with? You’re a virgin who can’t drive.”

Though her words were way harsh, she had the slightest hint of a smile in her eyes since she had, of course, been quoting _[Clueless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TY0bHULptWQ), _ her favorite movie. He was still annoyed, though, and, as he pointed out to her, “Not all of us can have the experiences with cars that _you_ do.” 

Angela rolled her eyes at his insult. “Lighten up, Tonio; it was a _joke.”_

“And I actually drove the car away from the pumping station. So, no, I’m a virgin who _can_ drive.”

 _“Impressive,”_ Angela said dryly. 

Even when they got back in the car, Tony was still angry. “I can’t believe you wanted to _drive_ him. Do you really need sex so badly that you have to be so _reckless_ about it?” 

“You're calling me reckless when we're going to get _your_   _best friend_ out of _jail?”_  

Before Tony could respond, Angela turned the radio back on and, as soon as she recognized the song, started to loudly sing along.

[ _“There's nothin' where we used to lie. Conversation has run dry, that's what's going on—nothing's fine, I'm torn!”_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSZBIs0gs0E)

* * *

“Isn’t it funny that _you’re_ a twin named Michael and _I_ have a twin named Michael?” Pip asked Michael excitedly after she finished her candy. “I think that’s why I like Lindsay so much, ‘cause she’s just like me!”

“…Uh huh,” Michael said, still looking at his SAT prep book.

“But I guess your name isn’t _Michelangelo,_ right? That’s Mikey’s real name—but you _cannot_ call him ‘Mikey’ _,_ ‘cause only _I_ can call him that. Right, Mikey?” Mike nodded in agreement. “But he hates _Michelangelo_ even more, because of the Ninja Turtles and everything. But also ‘cause it’s so long and weird, right? Kiki gets mad whenever we call it weird, but it’s weird!”

Michael looked up from his book. “Kiki? Who—”

“It’s like how I don’t like my real name, either, ‘cause it’s _Fillippa,_ but it’s Italian so I guess you should say it like ‘Fee-lee-pah’. At least that’s how our grandparents say it and they’re the only ones that call us our Italian names, because _they’re_ Italian. Like, they speak Italian and everything! It’s cool! But we don’t know any Italian past our names and all of our siblings’ names.” She looked at Mike and asked, “Right, Mikey?” He moved his head slightly and she added, “Oh, right, and we know that we call our grandparents _nonnina_ and _nonnino._ That’s Italian.”

Michael blinked a few times. “Uh…cool,” he said. “I hadn’t realized you guys were Italian—”

“We’re half-Italian and half-German! Our ma became Jewish for our dad, which our grandparents didn’t like, because they’re Catholic, so that means we're part Christmas! Like, we celebrate it kinda, but not Easter, which they don’t like, because they’re Catholic like I said, but we don’t believe that Jesus died for our sins because we’re Jewish like our dad. I think that’s what Easter’s about, right?” Michael opened his mouth to answer, but she just continued, “But even though we celebrate Christmas, our parents never told us Santa exists, but we promised not to tell other kids that he doesn’t exist, because that would be mean. So, don’t worry, we won’t tell Buster—we know he still believes.”

“…Um, yeah, thanks,” Michael said. Pip smiled and nodded but, thankfully, stayed silent. Michael just watched her for a few moments before looking back down at his SAT prep book.

It was only seconds later when she asked, “What are you doing?”

“…I’m preparing for my SATs. They’re a big test you have to take to get into a good college,” Michael said, hoping the weight he put in his voice made it clear this was important.

“Oh, yeah! Angela’s taken those and Tony has, too! Oh! And you know how only I can call Mike Mikey? Did you know Tony’s the only person who can call Angela ‘Angie’?”

“I didn’t—”

“Yeah! And she’s, like, the only person who calls him ‘Tonio’. I guess it’s a sibling thing. Or a twin thing, ‘cause ma and dad and Kiki say those two are basically twins because they’re only a year apart which is so little. Not so little as the five minutes between me and Mikey, though, but that’s rare, because there aren’t a lot of twins are there? But you’re one!” She bounced excitedly and asked, “Does Lindsay get to call you things no one else does?”

“…Uh, not that I can think of?”

Pip frowned. “Why not?”

“I don’t know? We just don’t have that kind of relationship, I guess,” Michael said. “We aren’t as close as you and Mike seem to be.” 

Michael frowned along with his sister. “We think that’s sad,” Pip said. “You know, Angela even pointed out that you two don’t look much alike. Are you guys really twins?”

“…I don't know why our parents would lie about us being twins," Michael responded. "We're just fraternal like you guys, so we don't look exactly the same."

“Yeah, but Lindsay’s, like, _really_ pretty!” Mike lightly hit his sister’s shoulder and gave her a scolding look. “I mean—no, I didn’t mean it in a mean way! You’re not ugly or anything! She’s just really, _really_ pretty. And you’re a _boy._ And boys aren’t _pretty._ You’re more handsome than pretty, right?”

“…Thanks?”

“See, Mikey, it was a compliment to a boy!” Pip said to her twin. She turned back to Michael and said, “Well, except I know there _are_ pretty boys, Angela says she likes pretty boys! But Tony says those aren't his type. He says he likes tall guys the most, but I know he likes pretty girls, too—he told us he's bi which means he likes guys  _and_ girls."

"I didn't know that—"

Suddenly changing the subject, Pip interrupted, "Lindsay told us Buster’s real name is Byron! Is that true? I’d ask him, but I don’t think he even realizes what his real name is!”

“Yeah—”

“That’s so weird!” Pip said with a giggle. “You know, one time in class Buster was telling us about this thing and…”

Pip kept talking and Michael just watched with wide-eyed horror. She barely even stopped to take a breath. He looked over at Mike, who just watched like this was a normal thing, not adding any input—at least not audibly, but Pip responded to him every now and then as if he had said something.

So, okay, maybe giving Pip and Mike all those candy beans was a mistake. Or at least giving _Pip_ all those candy beans was a mistake.

Maybe he didn’t really have the whole kids thing down.

“You know, Lindsay has really bouncy hair,” Pip said suddenly. Well, Michael assumed it was some sudden subject change; he couldn’t really focus on what she was saying before since she had been talking so fast. 

“I guess she does?”

“I bet you could have bouncy hair, too!”

“I mean, my hair’s not as long—”

“It’s not about hair length; it’s about bouncing from within!” Pip was more or less bouncing as she sat, possibly to demonstrate bouncing, possibly just because of all the sugar. Probably both. “That’s what Angela always says, and she knows hair better than anyone! And she’s taught _me_ a lot about hair! Like, I bet I could do your hair. Lindsay has to have hair stuff here, right?”

Michael’s eyes widened. “You really don’t have to—”

“Please?” Pip asked.

“Pip, I really need to study—”

“If you let me play with your hair I’ll stop talking and let you study!”

Michael looked at her then at his book and then at Mike. Mike nodded at Michael as if to say that was true. And Michael really _did_ need to study…

After what had to be the longest sigh he had ever given, he got up and said, “Let’s go find Lindsay’s hair supplies.”

Pip jumped off the couch with excitement and started running towards the stairs, even though she didn’t know where she was going. Michael looked to Mike and asked, “Is she always like this?”

Mike simply ate the last of his candy beans and gave Michael a look he couldn’t decipher before running up after his sister.

* * *

 

“Damn. This don’t even hurt.”

Lindsay continued to draw the upside-down flag on the woman’s upper arm as she said, “Of course it doesn’t; it’s just a pen.”

“What?” The woman looked over at Lindsay and yanked her arm away. “I _told_ you I wanted a tattoo.”

“And this _is_ a tattoo; it’s just not permanent.”

“I want something that’s gonna last—some of your art there.” 

In all honesty, Lindsay was flattered. Someone actually liked her drawing enough they wanted it permanently on their body. But she was _not_ about to give someone a prison tattoo—not like she even knew how to start with that.

But, then again, this lady was scary. And a  _lot_ bigger than her.

But wasn't she just thinking about how her art empowered her? How it made her stronger? How she could use it to rebel? And what was more rebellious than doing her artwork her own way and standing up to someone who terrified her?

“Well…how is it _my_ art if you’re trying to tell me how to do it, huh?” Lindsay asked, feigning all the confidence she had. 

The woman narrowed her eyes, but Lindsay kept looking at her. Finally, the woman nodded. “Fine…but press hard.” The woman shifted back to the position she had been in earlier and offered Lindsay her arm.

Lindsay nodded and smiled at herself. “Don’t worry; I’ll press hard.” She went back to drawing on the woman, being sure to press hard into her skin.

* * *

 

Gob watched as his bandmates all whispered together. He frowned; they _had_ to be talking about him. Probably calling him gay some more and calling him _dramatic_ for flying off the handle and talking about leaving his band, because of _course_ he was going to fail at this whole rock band thing—

“Gob?”

Gob looked up at Max. “Yeah?”

Max hesitated, but Nick gave him a look and Jesse nudged him. He cleared his throat and said, “…I’m sorry I made that joke that gay guys like prison. And for saying that you were gay just because we’ve seen you hooking up with guys.”

Gob just stared at him.

“Like we said,” Nick started, “we don’t care if you _are_ gay. But we also don’t care if you’re not gay, either.”

Gob looked down at his lap.

“We just like being in the band with you,” Jesse said. “And getting all the groupies.”

Gob looked back up. They all looked sincere and he slowly smiled. “…I mean, as long as you know that I obviously get first dibs.” 

All four of them laughed and that and shared high fives, making dumb jokes together. As Gob moved back to sit closer with his band, the other three shared relieved looks. The three of them weren’t the smartest, but they knew that if their friend wasn’t ready to say he was into guys, they couldn’t force him to. 

And, of course, even the dumbest people knew you didn’t piss of the lead singer/main financier of your band right before a gig.

* * *

Angela changed out CDs to one full of the poppiest pop songs Tony had ever heard, all of them having reached number one at some point or another. Each one was grating on him, but a lot of that irritation probably had more to do with the day than the songs. 

But, okay, [“MMMBop”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHozn0YXAeE) definitely wasn’t helping his mood.

It was just bothering him how close they were to recreating that painting fight out over at that truck stop. Tony had been so close to calling her a slut again and she had definitely implied that Lindsay was a bad influence again.

Despite how long ago the fight happened, they _still_ hadn’t talked about it, which definitely wasn’t a good thing. Tony had thought they were just over it and had been trying to just forget that it happened, but maybe they needed to actually talk about it. Because if Angela really thought Lindsay was a bad influence and told their parents that now that she had proof that she kind of was, he’d never get to hang out with her ever again.

And as painful as talking about it was going to be, _god,_ it was better than listening to Angela sing along to the song that came on after Hanson faded out. That song was the most annoying one of all time.

Tony turned it off right away. As Angela started to complain, he simply said, “I want you to know that Lindsay really _isn’t_ a bad influence. I know you’re worried about that—”

“What?”

“Remember? You said that she was a bad influence back at that truck stop. And during the whole _painting thing?”_

The two of them fell silent for a long time. Much like Tony, Angela had been trying to forget what had happened. After realizing that Lindsay really _did_ have some sort of eating disorder, she felt really bad for how she had acted, both the making slight digs at her and saying she was a bad influence for wanting to do such a dark poster for the contest. Angela still thought the whole “vomits up dinner” thing was a bit too much, but she got that it was Tony trying to find a way to make a personal poem that spoke to Lindsay and her issues. 

Beyond that, Angela hadn’t tried or wanted to think about what had gone down. She had definitely been trying not to think about how Tony called her a slut. Anyone else doing it was one thing, but _Tony_ saying it had hurt more than she had expected. He made fun of everyone and was so cynical, but he had never been so mean spirited in _her_ direction.

After a long moment, Angela said, “…Look, Tonio. I didn’t really mean that.”

“And I didn’t mean what I said, either,” Tony said quickly.

“I know,” Angela said. “But, Tony, the reason…the reason I said that was…I was _jealous.”_

That genuinely shocked him. What did she have to be jealous of? He just stared at her, not sure what to say.

Angela sighed. “I wasn’t used to…to _sharing_ you. I’m _still_ not.” She kept looking at the road ahead, even as she felt her brother’s confused gaze on her. “I’m glad you have a friend, but, you know, I’m graduating high school this year and then I’ll have college and then you’ll be in college, too, and—”

“But you’re applying to schools in New York, aren’t you?” Tony asked. That had always been their plan; Tony would go to NYU and she’d eventually convince her parents that she should go to the beauty school her aunt had gone to and she’d take over the salon, or be a make-up artist to the stars or something else beauty related in New York. New York was always the plan for the both of them.

Angela gripped the steering wheel tightly. “…I’m only applying to schools out here,” she said quietly.

Tony felt like his whole world was crashing around him. “But…but we’ve always—”

“Tony…I like it here,” she said honestly. “I…I actually _love_ it here. I love the sun and the beach and I actually love my friends, too, even if you think they’re dumb or shallow. I know I’m gonna miss the snow and I know it’s more conservative in the OC—”

“Don’t call it that—”

“But I don’t care. I really love California.” She took a breath and said, “I planned on telling you that today. I turned in applications for Chapman and UCLA and a few other schools nearby. But I’m still hoping ma and dad will let me do beauty school instead.” After a moment, she said, “I know that I’ll be around next year, but then _you’re_ gonna be in New York after that and…and who knows _when_ we’ll see each other. And…and I just miss spending time with you and want to make memories while we can. Even if the memories are some dumb, pretty-boy cowboy in a truck stop."

"…Oh." 

“So, I was really looking forward to spending time with you today without having to work or anything. I was excited to just relax and talk, like _really_ talk, and now we’re…we’re picking up the person you’re spending most of your free time with,” Angela said softly. She cleared her throat and, trying to sound unemotional, said, “So, yeah, you owe me.”

Tony simply stared at her, not sure what to say at all. He hadn’t realized Angela just wanted to spend time with him. If he had, he would’ve tried to carve in more time for her. He really would’ve. And he definitely would’ve if he had known she wasn’t planning on going back to New York.

“And it doesn’t help that Lindsay hates me,” Angela added. 

“What?” Tony shook his head. “Lindsay doesn’t hate you—”

“She hates _all_ cheerleaders, Tony,” Angela said dismissively. “Especially ones who are friends with Sally Sitwell.”

“Maybe, but I know she doesn’t hate _you,”_ Tony said confidently even though he realized that maybe that wasn’t true. “…Even if she did hate you, I know she’d like you if she got to know you. You’d _both_ like each other. There’s a reason I like both of you, after all.”

Angela rolled her eyes. She sincerely doubted it, since it seemed clear to her that Lindsay was looking for a reason to hate everything about her former life, and, from what Angela could tell, Lindsay’s former life was a _lot_ like her own current life. 

“Would you at least give it a chance?” Tony asked. “I think we could all have fun hanging out together.” Angela opened her mouth to protest, but he desperately added, _“Please?”_

God. Tony never pleaded. Not like _that._ Angela shut her mouth and, after a moment, she nodded in response. “Fine. I’ll give it a try.”

But, in the meantime, she turned her CD back on and restarted _that_ awful song she had been playing. “You better sing it with me this time,” Angela said. Tony started to protest but she said, “Hey, you owe me, remember?”

Tony rolled his eyes heavily as Angela started to sing the chorus. But, since he did owe her, he spoke in a monotone voice in time with the music when “his” part happened. 

[ _“Come on Barbie, let’s go party…”_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZyhrYis509A)

* * *

Once they got to the jail, Tony went in with the cash and, after some paper processing, Lindsay and the band were released. They all thanked him profusely, even though it was definitely too late for a trip to Mexico. At least the gig was still possible, so it wasn’t a _total_ waste. However, both cars definitely needed gas, so they stopped at a nearby truck stop. As Angela went to get water and "freshen up", Lindsay came over to talk to Tony.

“You guys can come to the show if you want,” Lindsay suggested to Tony after thanking him for the millionth time. “There’s still room for you if you want to join solo, too.”

“I don’t know. Our parents don’t know we’ve gone this far; they think we’re just seeing a movie and having dinner.” And, in all honesty, Tony was looking forward to getting back home and finishing up _Grease,_ as lame as that was. 

“Ah. Gotcha,” Lindsay said. She sighed and leaned up against the car. “I wish I could come back with you guys, honestly. Jail was exhausting. Some woman in there made me give her a tattoo.”

_“What?”_

“Relax; I just used a pen. I had been drawing on the walls and she said she wanted it on her arm,” Lindsay said with a nonchalant shrug. “She actually got a bit pissed when she realized it was just a pen, but when I explained it wouldn’t be _my_ art if she dictated the medium, she got over it. And, really, it was her fault for not specifying that she wanted it to be permanent.”

Tony stared at her for a moment before shaking his head. The whole situation had to be the craziest thing he ever experienced. But, then again, everything involving Lindsay’s family seemed to be pretty crazy.

“But, yeah, I’m not looking forward to the rest of the day with the band mates. I’m already dreading hearing Max complain about how ‘terrifying’ it was,” Lindsay said with a roll of her eyes. “We were just in the holding cells; it wasn’t like we were _really_ jailed. Plus, while I had that scary lady, they were all by themselves. It was just like their band practices."

"Except they couldn't play their instruments."

"Yeah, like I said, just like their band practices." They both laughed at that because, yeah, even if Gob's notebook proved that he knew music well and actually thought about what to write, they weren't the most dedicated band. Tony knew their last band practice was mostly spent debating on changing the name.

“Well, if you want, you can ditch the band and ride back with me and Angie,” Tony suggested hopefully.

Lindsay laughed. “You’re kidding, right?” Tony gave her a look and she raised her eyebrows. “Wow, you _weren’t_ kidding.” She looked over at the truck stop and then back at Tony. “I’m not interested in being trapped in a car with someone I don’t wanna be trapped in a car with.”

“Do you _really_ not like her?” 

As Lindsay looked at Tony’s face, she actually felt bad. Tony would smirk and laugh, but, besides that, he wasn’t the most expressive person. But in that moment, he actually looked concerned and upset and _god_ she didn’t want to be the one causing that.

“I don’t _hate_ her,” Lindsay said. And that was the truth. “I just…I don’t really _know_ her. And I don’t think trying to get to know her when we’re trapped in a car, a place you have been known to throw up in, is a good idea.” Before Tony could protest that he’d be fine, she added, “And the band really _does_ need a DD.”

“…Fair point,” Tony mumbled. 

After a moment, Lindsay sighed. “You can pick out something for all three of us to do sometime, okay? We can all hang out and bond or whatever. See how it goes.”

Tony smiled slightly. “Thanks, Linds. You won’t regret it.”

“We’ll see,” Lindsay said. Spotting her brother walking over behind Tony, Lindsay smiled and said, “Well, hey, at least you’ll get something good from this day.”

Before Tony could question what that meant, Gob was joining them. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tony said. See? He was doing so much better with him. Actually responding without needing a full five minutes to form a word. 

“Thanks again for bailing us out.”

“It's no problem,” Tony said. 

“Did you bring my song book?” 

“Oh, right, yeah.” Tony opened the car door and pulled out the book and handed it to Gob.

“Excellent,” Gob said, flipping through a few pages. “You didn’t read any of this, did you?”

“…No.”

Gob seemed to take his word for it. “Cool. ‘Cause this has some personal stuff in it, ya know? Things I’m not ready to put out into the public.”

“Right,” Tony said.

Lindsay raised an eyebrow and asked, “Does it include the song ‘Paingasm’? Because I really don’t think that one should be put out in public ever.”

“Shut up, Lindsay; that’s one of our best songs,” Gob said with a frown. He looked back at Tony as Lindsay just smirked at him. “Anyways, yeah, I know my lyrics aren’t Freddie Mercury level or anything, but I’m trying.”

Tony nodded, trying to ignore the lyrics he read earlier. “Well, you at least know how to write a catchy tune; that’s more than most singer-songwriters.”

Gob smiled. “You think so?”

“Yeah. It’s clear you really know music. Every time I go to one of your gigs, I get at least _one_ of your songs stuck in my head.”

“Really? Awesome,” Gob said, smiling so genuinely that Tony felt lighter than usual. 

After a beat, Tony said, “You know, I…I write sometimes. I’m not amazing or anything—”

“Oh, yeah, you wrote that poem for Lindsay’s painting, right?” Gob said. “I totally wanted to ask if you were interested in songwriting.”

_“Really?”_

“Yeah! I mean, that was just a taste of it, right? I bet you got some good, meaningful shit you can write if that’s something you cranked that out in a day,” Gob said.

Lindsay nodded at Gob with a smile. “I think you two should _totally_ write a song together.” She turned to Tony and added, “Don’t you think so, Tony?”

Gob looked at Tony hopefully as Tony looked at Lindsay with wide eyes. He slowly looked over at Gob and took in his hopeful face and found himself melting. “I…I’d love to, yeah.”

“Awesome!" Gob held out his hand to high five him and Tony did so, his palm tingling. And definitely not because Gob hit it hard.

Well, not _just_ because Gob hit it hard. 

“I mean, it might have to be a summer project just because, you know, school and stuff.”

“Right, of course,” Gob said, nodding excitedly. _“Fuck,_ the last summer of the millennium, too! It’s gonna be the best one yet!”

Tony said, “Actually, it’s not the last summer of the millennium.” Lindsay and Gob both blinked at Tony.

“…But it’s gonna be 1999. As in, we’re gonna party like it’s 1999, as in the last year of the millennium,” Gob said.

Lindsay nodded and agreed, “Yeah. Because 2000, as in our graduation year, is the first year of the new millennium.”

“Well, mathematically speaking, 2001 is the first year of the millennium." They looked at Tony blankly. "Because we didn’t start counting at year 0. We started at year 1 AD, so it’s not a new millennium until 2001. Two thousand years after year 1.”

Lindsay and Gob both looked confused at that.

“…My mom does math for a living and she’s so insistent on that fact, so…” Wanting to get off the subject, Tony cleared his throat and said, “Sorry you guys didn’t get to go to Mexico.”

Gob took a moment before he shrugged, embracing the new subject. “It’s fine. I’ve been a lot, anyways. Used to ditch school and drive down there all the time.” After a moment he laughed and said, “It’s a miracle I graduated, honestly.”

Tony laughed with him. “Uh, yeah. I’d also prefer to go to Mexico than go to school,” he said. “At least I assume. I’ve never been.”

“What?” Gob asked. “That’s _insane._ We’re so close!”

“Well, I just moved here a few months ago,” Tony said in his defense.

“We should take him sometime, Gob,” Lindsay suggested. “I’m sure Tony would love spending the day on the beach with us. Can’t you imagine him making sand castles?”

How the fuck did she know what he had been fantasizing?

“Oh, yeah, we could _totally_ make some awesome sand castle. Like, _Grease_ level. Remember that one from the beginning of the movie?” Gob said with a big smile. 

How the fuck did _he_ know what he had been fantasizing?

 _“God,_ I love that movie,” Gob said with a smile.

 _God,_ Tony loved _him._

Oh. Shit. Was he actually, like, straight up in love with this guy now? Not just a crush? Was he seriously in love with a guy who wrote poems about kitchenware and slept all day and shamelessly admitted to liking _Grease?_ Like, okay, Tony loved that movie, but he knew it was embarrassing to, but Gob seemed to have no fucking shame about it. He didn't seem to have shame about  _anything._ He really thought it was just a crush he'd get over, but he actually enjoyed spending time with Gob and talking with him and listening to his music and—

Yeah, maybe he was actually in _love_ with the guy. 

Needing a moment to process that revelation, Tony quickly said, “I should go to the restroom before we leave. It’s a long drive back.” After a beat, he added, “Good luck tonight. Or, uh, break a leg. Whichever you use.”

“Thanks,” Gob said, thinking nothing of Tony’s abrupt exit as he opened up his book to look over the lyrics to a song they were premiering that night.

Tony passed by his sister on the way to the truck stop and told her he’d be a minute. She nodded and headed back to the car, a little surprised to find Lindsay and a guy she hadn’t been introduced to yet standing there.

Remembering how badly Tony wanted them to get along, Angela smiled at Lindsay and greeted, “Hey, Lindsay.”

“Hey, Angela.” Remembering the same thing as Angela, Lindsay added, “Thanks again for driving all this way to get us out. I was seriously only going, like, five over the speed limit _max.”_

“Yeah…I hear cops can be really harsh about California traffic. Just going to the DMV to switch my license to a Cali one was an ordeal,” Angela said. 

Gob finally looked up from his lyrics and noticed Angela. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, yeah, this is Angela, Tony’s sister,” Lindsay said. “Angela, this is my brother, Gob.”

Angela offered her hand. “Nice to meet you, Lindsay’s brother,” she said.

They shook hands and Gob grinned in a flirtatious manner. “You, too, Tony’s sister.”

Angela grinned back, her eyes taking in his dimples. _Very_ cute. “Sorry you guys were all jailed back there.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It must’ve been scary.”

“I handled it just fine.”

“You must be a tough guy, huh?” 

Gob shrugged cockily with a grin. “I’m stronger than I look.”

Angela looked him over slowly and said, “And you already look pretty strong.”

“I am,” Gob said, still grinning.

“I bet,” Angela replied, definitely still grinning as well as she pushed some of her hair behind her ear.

Lindsay looked between the two of them with wide eyes. Had Tony not told her about his desperate crush on Gob? She wouldn’t be flirting if she knew, right? She _had_ to have limits. There was no way she didn’t know about how Tony felt about Gob and there was no way she’d swoop in on him and betray her brother, right?

Well, maybe she would. She _was_ a cheerleader, after all, and she had already gotten herself a bit of a reputation at school. Maybe she was really insatiable that way. After all, cheerleaders weren’t the most trustworthy—

No. Lindsay wasn’t going to assume things like that about Angela, not with how badly Tony wanted them to get along. He knew Angela better than she did, so it _had_ to be a misunderstanding. She had to just be flirting for fun or something.

Yeah. That had to be it. There was no reason to freak out. It was just two people who loved to flirt having a good time together. And, besides, Gob was gay, so it wasn't like anything would come with it. 

Well, okay, whenever Lindsay tried to bring it up, he just denied any interest in guys, but, like, she _only_ saw guys leaving his room, never girls, so he couldn’t be bi. He just had to be having trouble accepting himself. So there was no way he was genuinely interested in Angela.

Unless he was trying to actually be straight…Angela _would_ be a good choice when it came to experimenting with girls. Not that Lindsay noticed that stuff, but, well, Angela _was_ really beautiful and hot and she was obviously willing—

No. She needed to stop thinking about it. It was just two people flirting for fun. That was it.

But once they parted ways and Lindsay started the car back up again, Gob asked, “So…Tony’s sister, huh?”

“Angela?” Lindsay asked, raising her eyebrows. “What about her?”

“What’s her deal?” Gob looked over towards her and said, “You know, like…her _deal.”_

“From what I can tell, her ‘deal’ is every guy out there,” Lindsay said. She shook her head at herself. “Okay, that was mean and I promised Tony I’d be nice about her…” She sighed and said, “Angela’s a cheerleader. She gets around. But she’s somehow Tony’s favorite sibling, and he has six to choose from, so that’s saying something. I guess she’s got to be kinda cool, then.”

Gob nodded as Lindsay started to drive. He looked back towards where Angela had been one more time before looking back at the road ahead. “She’s pretty hot,” Gob said nonchalantly.

Lindsays eyes widened. What the _fuck_ did _that_ mean?

* * *

Angela pulled up to the Bluth residence, the sun starting to set ever so slightly. That time she went over to the door with Tony, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of the inside of the place. “I seriously can’t believe this place is real,” Angela said as Tony rang the doorbell.

“I know. They have a maid and _everything.”_

“God…maybe I really need to marry into this family. Or get knocked up so they have to take me.” 

“Don’t say that so close to Michael; he might take you seriously,” Tony said. Before Angela could retort that Gob was obviously the better option, Michael opened the door.

Not the Bluth one, but _their_ Michael.

“…Hey, Mike,” Tony said. His brother had a weird look on his face. He ran to Angela, attacking her with a hug that nearly knocked her off her feet; she took several steps back just to gain her balance.

Her and Tony locked wide eyes. They knew what this meant.

“Oh no…”

They heard Pip babble, “And then the other thing is, who came up with the name ‘tennis bracelet’ anyway? It sounds like some kind of a sweatband—you know, my brother, Daniel, wears those a lot, but that’s because he works out a lot, and I don’t think they’re really pretty, you know? But he likes covering his wrists, and a tennis bracelet wouldn’t do that unless it was a sweatband, so, like, they shouldn’t call it that, right? That’s what I’m trying to say!” 

Michael arrived at the door, gripping onto Pip’s shoulder as he moved her towards the door, looking utterly defeated with what looked like butterfly clips in his hair. There was definitely some gel or mousse or hairspray or maybe all three in it as well. It was a mess, and Tony had a pretty good guess as to what happened there. “You know what I'd name them? Wrist ornament! It's like a _tree_ ornament, only for your _wrist._ Doesn't that sound fun?? ‘Cause like I said we _do_ celebrate Christmas sometimes, because we’re part Catholic, though we’re really Jewish, but we couldn’t really fit a tree in our apartment in New York, so I hope we get one here that’s bigger! Do they have pine trees here? I really want to get a Christmas tree this year—”

Michael moved Pip in front of Tony. “Take. Her. _Now.”_

Tony had to bite his lips to keep from laughing. He looked down at Pip once he composed himself and asked, “Did you have fun, Pipsqueak?”

She squeaked and clapped her hands, bouncing a little in the process. She really turned back to a little kid when she had too much sugar, though he figured nine was still a little kid age. “Michael’s my favorite babysitter, _ever!_ Can he babysit us again?” Michael looked terrified at the idea.

“How much candy did he give you?” Tony asked knowingly.

“A _huge_ bowl of jelly beans!” Pip cried out excitedly. “And a juice box, too! Each!”

“Wow,” Tony said, smiling back at Michael. “That _does_ sound like the world’s best babysitter.”

“I know! And then he let me do his hair!!”

“I see. You did a great job Pippa.”

“Now he’s a pretty boy!”

“He sure is,” Tony said. Michael glared at Tony, looking about ready to kill him. “You know, Angela’s type tends to be pretty boys.” Michael’s glare only increased. 

At the mention of Angela’s name, Pip finally spotted her and ran over, grabbing her free arm; her other arm was occupied by holding onto Mike to keep him still. “Angela!! Angelaaa! Look at Michael! I did his hair! You like hair—I tried to do it like you do! Is it good?”

Michael’s eyes grew wide; apparently he only just noticed Angela was there as well and he froze with embarrassment as Pip pulled her closer.

“You did a great job, Pip,” Angela said encouragingly. “You’re gonna steal my spot for best hairdresser in the family, aren’t you?” Pip giggled at that and nodded and bounced all at once.

Mike suddenly declared, much to his twin’s delight, “All hail Pippi Longstocking!” Angela and Tony looked at Mike with surprise.

“We’re at the _talking_ point?” Tony said. “Wow, we better get them home; that crash is coming and it’s coming _soon.”_

“Let’s get you two in the car, okay?” Angela said. They both nodded and ran over to the car as Angela walked behind them, both of them circling it a few times before Angela unlocked it and they got in.

Tony looked back over at Michael. “…I probably should’ve warned you that they aren’t allowed to have that much sugar.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Michael agreed tensely.

“But in my defense, who gives a bowl of jelly beans as a _snack?”_ Tony asked. Michael crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, mumbling out some defense Tony didn’t bother following. “But thanks for watching them. And for letting Pip do your hair.”

“She said if I let her she’d stop talking,” Michael muttered. “…It didn’t work.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to get the clips out. “Now I’m _really_ behind on my SAT prep, and I _need_ to get out of the ninetieth percentile, I _cannot_ show my face in public if I don’t beat my last score—”

“Oh, Michael," Angela said, joining them again now that the twins safely buckled inside the car. Michael had looked angry and she figured she could help Tony from getting yelled at. “Thank you _so much_ for watching our siblings for us.” She put her hands behind her back, effectively sticking out her chest slightly as she batted her eyes at him. “I don’t know how we’re _ever_ going to repay you.”

Michael got a really goofy smile on his face. “…It was no big deal.”

“But really! We interrupted your SAT studying, and I feel so terrible about it,” Angela said. She smiled slightly and moved in closer. “But I know you’re gonna ace it anyways. You’re _so_ smart.” 

“…Th-thanks.”

“I’m just saying the truth. You’re super smart. And super sweet for taking care of the kids,” Angela said, actually touching his arm for a moment. Michael looked ready to explode from the short contact. “We owe you one.” 

“I-it’s fine—”

“If you say so,” Angela said brightly. “But let me know if I can do anything to pay you back.” She winked at him before turning around. Michael was absolutely frozen to the spot with the most amusing look on his face, so Tony turned around and walked off with Angela to avoid laughing in his face. Angela smirked at Tony as they walked to the car and told him, “You’re welcome.”

"Thank you," he whispered back to her.

“Is Michael mad at me?” Pip asked once Tony and Angela were back in the car. Her eyes widened and she asked, “I wasn’t quiet! Does that mean you’re not gonna pay us twelve bucks?”

Tony chuckled and buckled in. “Oh, Pip…for what happened in there, I’m paying you both a full _twenty.”_

* * *

Thankfully no one found out about the little road trip Angela and Tony had. Their parents really believed they had just gone to see a movie and that Buster had randomly asked for a playdate that had worn the twins out so much that they needed a nap. It all worked out swimmingly.

Another thing that worked out swimmingly was the apartment hunting. Chiara and Daniel found a place they both liked that was close enough for Daniel to ride his bike to the bakery, which was his number one requirement. It was also affordable and had two bedrooms, Chiara’s main requirements. Chiara could actually remember having her own room all those years ago, and she was more than happy to get one to herself again.

Tony couldn’t blame her; his jealousy over Angela getting her own room was growing by the day. Even though his oldest siblings weren’t moving out until after the holidays, Angela was already loudly planning on everything she wanted to do with her own room.

But things started to look up for him during what started out as a normal dinner one Monday night.

“Lizzie got some amazing news,” Giulia said excitedly. “Why don’t you tell them, Lizzie?”

Lizzie sat up proudly and said, “I’ve been invited to visit and apply to Grove Hills.”

While Daniel, Chiara, and their dad all congratulated her, Tony raised an eyebrow. “That place where they fence in all the geeks?”

While Lizzie glared, Giulia scolded him, “It’s one of the best high schools in the nation and only the most gifted and talented get invited to apply.”

“I’m one of only _two_ students in my grade who got invited,” Lizzie said smugly. “And last year _no one_ got invited.”

“And we’re very proud of you,” Giulia said sincerely. _“All_ of us.” She gave the table a look and everyone gave her words of congratulations. 

“Thank you.”

“So, we’ll be going out with her this weekend to visit the campus,” Giulia said.

“We all have to go?” Angela asked. “That’s not fair.”

“No, Angela. Only your father and I are going. Parents and invited students are the only ones allowed.”

“So, we’re stuck here with Daniel and Chiara in charge? That’s not fair!” Angela said. 

“It’s just for a weekend,” Giulia said reasonably.

“We’re not _that_ bad,” Chiara said defensively.

Angela turned to Tony. He always had the best remarks to things like that. But Tony was thinking of something else. 

“So, if Lizzie goes to this geek school…does that mean _Pip_ gets her own room?” Tony asked. Pip perked up and Tony immediately protested, “That’s _totally_ unfair! Can’t the twins share one? I deserve my own room before she does! She’s nine!”

“I’m nine and a _half!”_ Pip corrected him.

“And I’m _seventeen!”_ Tony said indignantly. “I should get my own room before she does!”

“Well, Mikey and I wouldn’t mind sharing,” Pip said. _“We’re_ not selfish. Right, Mikey?” Michael nodded and Tony rolled his eyes.

“It’s not selfish to want my own space,” Tony said.

“That’s very sweet of you two,” Giulia told the twins. “But Lizzie still needs a place to stay when she visits on weekends.”

“Yeah, it’s not like she’s moving out for good,” Daniel said.

Lizzie cleared her throat. “Actually, you should go ahead and re-divide the rooms.” At her parents’ looks, she explained, “There are a _lot_ of activities and there’s _so_ much more homework that I’d have to stay there over the weekends more often than not. I’d probably only come down for the holidays because I’ll be too busy otherwise. And even those visits would probably be truncated due to the networking and friendships I should be building with like-minded peers.”

Tony rolled her eyes heavily. “God, we get it, you’re ‘gifted’ and you’re _so much_ smarter than us.”

Lizzie coldly said, “I don’t get why you’re angry at me when _I’m_ the one saying you should get your own room because I won’t be here. And I _do_ think it makes sense to have the twins share a room so you can have one of your own.” With that she stood up and asked, “May I be excused? I want to get started on that application.”

Without waiting for approval, Lizzie got up and went to her bedroom.

Tony thought about it all as he took another bite fo his dinner. As long as Lizzie got into that geek school—which she would, because she was, like, _queen_ geek—he'd have his own room for his senior year. 

1999 wasn't the last year of the millennium, but it was still going to be a damn good year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, originally this chapter was going to be "Speedtrapped" with a combo of "Gifted" and "That Was Then, This is Dumb", but I decided I wanted to finally get a chance to dive at least a _little_ into Gob's mind before the big thing that happens in the latter episode…and then I got the idea of Michael watching the twins and wanted him to have the Pippi Longstocking moment like Daria did in "Pinch Sitter" lol. An underrated ep, tbh. Also, I couldn't include the full Travis thing as funny and perfect as it is in "Speedtrapped", just because I can't let Angela being _quite_ as dumb ~~/trying so hard to be straight~~ as Quinn was in that episode. So because of this shift of plots, the next chapter picks up right where this one left off. Because, yes, I have plots developing here and I am REALLY excited for them!!!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the taste of 90s pop, too. But, speaking of music, major thanks and love and props to [this amazing playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0k888N6B0qJNA8KECv41yu?si=i0DS1KrITqCKPZGjjcdrkQ) by [dalecooperscoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalecooperscoffee)! It's a Daria/Trent playlist, and since that's Tony/Gob in this verse, it _really_ helped me pump out this chapter. It's truly perfectly their aesthetic and it's so good. Even if you haven't watched the show, y'all should listen to the playlist so you can see exactly what vibe I'm trying to aim for lol.
> 
> And, yes, there's some weird fourth wall breakage going on with the _Clueless_ references when I see Angela as played by Alicia Silverstone but…I wanted to make so many of those references in Take on Me and my other fics that didn't fit the timeline so now that I can I HAVE TO MAKE ALL OF THEM!
> 
> I really hope you guys liked this and let me know!! Thank you to all of you who've read this, I'm so grateful! <3


	5. And What's Wrong With My Yogurt Recipe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on "That Was Then, This Was Dumb" (2x05) and "Gifted" (2x08), slight reference to "Dye, Dye My Darling" (4x13) and "Ill" (2x09)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, you could always go on home and swap yogurt recipes with the Yeagers."  
> "And what's wrong with _my_ yogurt recipe?"  
> -Jane Lane and Daria Morgendorffer, "That Was Then, This Is Dumb" (2x05)

“So, what are we gonna do about this weekend?” Angela asked Tony as they walked to art class.

“What do you mean?”

“Hello? The whole having to deal with Lite-Brite and Daniel in charge of us thing?” Angela said like it was obvious. “Have you _been_ a member of this family? You _know_ how awful it is when they have to watch us. I _can’t_ spend a weekend with Lite-Brite force-feeding us veggies and tucking us in.”

“…And Daniel definitely becomes even more of a dick than usual when he’s in charge,” Tony said. He sighed as they entered the art room. “God, I was so wrapped up in the room situation I didn’t even _think_ about that.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Angela said, rolling her eyes. “We _have_ to find a way out of the house.”

“Why?” They both turned around to find Lindsay looking at them. 

“Our parents are going to visit some geek school with our sister, Lizzie, this weekend which means our oldest siblings are in charge,” Tony said. “And it’s the _worst_ whenever they’re in charge.”

“Really?”

“Lite-Brite refuses to believe we’re nearly adults,” Angela said.

“Who?”

“That’s what she calls Chiara,” Tony explained. Before Lindsay could ask why, Tony continued, “She polices our every move. And Daniel takes being in control way too far. Like, gets power hungry."

“Ah.” Lindsay nodded. After a beat, Lindsay suggested, “Hey, Tony, you could stay at my place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, if your parents are cool with it or whatever. Just a big sleepover.”

Tony smiled and then looked over at Angela. She had crossed her arms and looked off to the side, obviously upset to not be included. Tony looked at Lindsay and gave her a significant look and gestured with his head towards Angela.

Lindsay took a moment before getting what Tony meant. Even when she _did_ get it, she wanted to refuse. It was going to be _weird_ with her there. She knew Tony wanted them to get to know each other, but forcing a friendship in a weekend-long sleepover? That seemed like a bit _much._

Still, after a moment, she held back a sigh and said, “You should come, too, Angela.”

Angela looked back over at her suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

Trying to get both of them interested, Tony pointed out, “Ma’s more likely to let me sleepover with a girl if you’re there, Angie.”

“…True.”

“And, hey, Linds, didn’t you say you wanted to try colored tips again?” Tony asked. Angela physically perked up and Tony suggested, “Angela could _totally_ do that. She’s _great_ at hair stuff.”

“Really?” Lindsay asked, actually looking intrigued herself.

Angela smiled. “Yeah. I took painting ‘cause it’s the closest to hair dyeing, honestly. You know, with the brushes and everything…”

“She worked a bit at our aunt’s hair salon back in New York,” Tony said. 

“I did,” Angela confirmed. “And I was pretty good—I’m _still_ good. I bleach my own hair.”

Lindsay raised her eyebrows, honestly impressed. She had assumed it had to be a professional job. “Wow…” She looked at Angela and then back at Tony. She smiled slightly and said, “Well, yeah. You both should come over. It’ll be fun.”

“Okay,” Angela agreed.

“Awesome,” Tony said. “Just know our mom might wanna talk to your mom about details.”

Lindsay nodded. “My mom’s good at putting on a good show for parents, so that’s fine.”

“…Will your dad be there?” Tony asked. He had only met him a couple of times, but he was so grouchy that he would prefer to avoid him.

“Actually, my dad’s going out of town, too,” Lindsay said. “But it’s just a business thing down at our beach cottage.”

Angela raised her eyebrows. “Business at a beach cottage?”

“Yeah, he does that all the time. I think getting away from it all helps him think or something. It helps him get some of his best ideas.” She shrugged and smiled as she said, “That’s why he always brings his secretary.”

Angela opened her mouth to point out what was obviously going on, but Tony put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. There was no reason to crush the one bit of innocence Lindsay had left.

* * *

After school, Tony and Lindsay went over to her house like usual. After an unusually boring conversation with Lucille—as in a conversation not full of jabs at either Tony or her daughter—she agreed to let Tony and Angela stay over the weekend. 

“Now we just need to get my ma to agree,” Tony said. “Which she will, I’m sure. She adores you.” After a moment, he corrected, “She adores that I have a friend at all.”

“It’s something,” Lindsay said with a shrug. 

“And I _do_ think she’ll be more willing with Angela here.” He paused again and frowned, “Well, at least with your ma here. The fact that she knows you have brothers…” While their father refused to believe Angela was anything less than his innocent baby girl, their mother was well aware that Angela had sex. She seemed to wobble between trying to be a modern woman and let her know sex was okay—she _had_ put her on the pill—and also wanting to keep her as far away from sex as possible. 

Not that Angela had done the full deed with _that_ many people. She normally told Tony the details and the amount of guys she actually slept with wasn’t very high. The amount of guys she had done other stuff with…well, that was a different number entirely.

Lindsay frowned as well. She couldn’t help but think back to Gob and Angela meeting, how she had smiled and flirted with her brother so freely. She had tried to convince herself it was just some harmless flirting between two flirtatious people, but with the two of them staying over for multiple nights, Lindsay was starting to worry.

Before she could even bring up that concern, though, they walked past Gob’s room and, surprisingly, he was actually awake. He was sitting in front of Jesse who had headphones on and was listening to something on Gob’s stereo.

“Zappa digital…” Gob said, watching Jesse’s facial expression as he listened to the CD. He changed to play from the vinyl record and said, “Zappa analog.”

Jesse looked confused. Well, he always did, but he looked even more confused then. “They sound the same to me.”

Gob scoffed and took the album and CD covers out of Jesse’s hands. “And you call yourself  a musician.”

“No, I call myself an interpreter of _sound.”_  

“And apparently not a good one,” Gob grumbled. He took the headphones off of Jesse’s head and put them on. He switched the stereo back to playing the vinyl record as Lindsay walked in, Tony (anxiously) trailing in after her. 

“What’s up? Some top secret experiment?” Lindsay asked.

Jesse explained, “My parents gave me some old records. They want us to sell them at the flea market, but now Gob wants to keep them.”

Gob took off his headphones and said, “Dude, you really can’t beat the warmth of vinyl. It’s why I still have all my old albums.” He gestured towards one of his walls and Tony looked over. He really _was_ the big Queen fan he said he was, since he seemed to have every vinyl they ever did up on his wall as decoration, along with a few other albums from various artists.

It was actually the first time Tony had been in Gob’s room, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking it over. Unlike the rest of the house, it had darker paint and definitely wasn’t trying to look neat and organized. It wasn’t a complete mess, but there wasn’t any bookshelf to put his music on, so some sheet music was laying around in various piles. There was a lava lamp and a bean bag chair that was nearing the end of its life. There were clothes poking out from his hamper and a few shirts lying around the floor. Really, the truest sign of Gob’s wealth was the huge bed he had. Even though it wasn’t made, the size and frame alone had to be worth more than the bunk bed they had in his room back home, and that didn’t count the sheets Tony assumed had a ridiculously high thread count.

He had to stop himself from thinking about what being in that bed would be like.

To distract himself, he looked over the posters Gob had up. There were several, from Freddie Mercury to Nirvana to…wow, how many posters of Patrick Swayze could one person own?

 _Wow._ Tony always forgot that Lindsay had told him Gob wasn’t straight, but if he ever needed the reminder, just a look at his posters would do the trick.

“When’s the flea market?” Lindsay asked, her question pulling Tony out of his thoughts. 

“This Saturday.”

“You guys need any help?” Lindsay asked.

Gob raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you really wanna help us? At a _flea market? You?”_

Lindsay slapped his arm. “Shut up! I can totally handle the whole vintage and selling your stuff thing. I’m not _mom.”_ Gob snorted and Lindsay rolled her eyes. “But, hey, Tony’s staying with us this weekend and I’m sure he’d love to go. Right, Tony?”

“You’re staying over?” Gob asked.

“Yeah. Well, as long as my ma agrees, but she probably will,” Tony said, almost immediately regretting it. He sounded like such a _baby_ for having to ask for his mom’s permission. 

“We _could_ use some help,” Gob said, his eyes still on Tony, looking so hopeful.

 _Fuck,_ Tony had it bad.

“Yeah. Sure. Flea markets are always fun.”

Gob grinned. _“Excellent.”_ He grabbed his headphones and said, “We're leaving at 6:30.”

“You could’ve warned us about _that_ part—” Lindsay tried to say, but Gob put on his headphones before she could complain.

* * *

Giulia ultimately agreed that it’d be easier for Chiara and Daniel if they didn’t have to worry about Tony and Angela. They _did_ have to agree to work a bit more at the bakery, since Chiara and Daniel were already working more hours than usual so it could be open that weekend, but it was better than having to live with their siblings taking on parental roles.

They went over to the bakery after school that Thursday to go over their schedules and make sure everything would work out hours-wise. Tony was a minor and couldn’t work that many hours, especially since he had already put in some that week. He ended up getting a few hours on Friday which he wasn’t particularly looking forward to, but it made more sense to do that and have him help close so Angela, who was already eighteen and therefore had less labor laws protecting her, could work all day on Saturday instead.

Truly, since it was a family business, Tony wasn’t sure how closely their dad had to follow labor laws, since it wasn’t like anyone would report him, but he definitely wasn’t complaining about it.

After some negotiating, they managed to put together a calendar. “Okay, so as long as we have the twins here on Saturday night during prep hour,” Chiara said, writing it down as she thought through it, “Daniel and I can set up for the next day and still keep an eye on them…” She looked over the schedule and nodded. “I think this all works.”

“I can’t believe I have to put in an eight hour shift,” Angela groaned.

“Welcome to the real world, sis,” Daniel said. She rolled her eyes but still agreed to the schedule along with Tony.

Soon after that, the bell to the front door jingled open. Chiara looked at the clock and Daniel smirked. “Wow, five fifteen already?” He shook his head as his sister smiled to herself. “It’s really like clockwork, huh?”

Angela and Tony looked at their siblings in confusion. Chiara straightened out her apron, still smiling, and said, “Some people are consistent.”

“Of _course_ that’s what you notice,” Daniel said with a snort. She smiled even wider and left the kitchen to go help whoever had walked in.

“What was that about?” Angela asked.

Daniel grinned and said, “You should see for yourself.” With that, he led them out front and the two of them watched Chiara talk to some guy, a pretty cute guy, who was ordering at the front counter. Ordering at the front counter with a _smile_ on. A smile for their _sister._ A smile that their sister _returned_ so easily. They watched her smile with the customer, saw her shift her body language towards him, saw how she tucked some of her hair behind her ear, how she laughed at one of his jokes…

“Oh my _god,_ is Lite-Brite _flirting?”_ Angela whispered incredulously.

“I think so,” Tony whispered back, his eyes wide. They only grew wider as she seemed to find an excuse to touch his arm for a moment.

“And she’s _good_ at it,” Angela said. 

Daniel chuckled. “You guys _really_ don’t remember younger Chiara, do you?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Young Kiknew how to flirt. She was actually a bit of a trouble maker,” Daniel said, smiling slightly at the memories he had.

“No way,” Angela said in disbelief.

“Where do you think _you_ got it from?” Daniel replied smugly. He looked back over at his older sister and said, “She still has a bit of the spice in her. Why else do you think we get along?”

“Being close in age and forced together?” Tony answered.

“If that was all it took, you and Lizzie would be best friends.”

_“Ew.”_

Daniel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Hey. Don’t be a dick about her.” 

Before Tony could respond, Angela asked, “So, he’s been coming in, like, every day?”

“Yep,” Daniel said, taking his eyes off of Tony. “Just like clockwork. He used to come in just to grab some coffee and a snack, and then Chiara started to serve him and he found himself a different kind of treat.”

Angela looked back over at her sister and whoever that guy was. He had such a wide smile on, and he still hadn’t seemed to order anything. He was just _talking_ to her. “He _really_ likes her,” Angela said, smiling at her sister. “You can tell just from looking at him.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. It was weirdly nice seeing his normally serious, responsible, mature oldest sister smiling like that. It was really only then, with her bright smile and all, that he realized that she actually _was_ really young. Like, she was only in her 20s. He always forgot that she wasn’t already in her 40s sometimes.

“…God, has she even dated anyone since Chip?” Angela asked. “That was the early high school boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah, Chip,” Tony confirmed.

Angela snorted. “Of course _you_ remember him. Because he was the first love of your life.”

Tony hit her on the arm. “Shut up! He totally wasn’t.”

Daniel laughed. “Please, Tony. Why do you think ma and dad weren’t surprised when you said you were gay?”

“I’m not _gay,_ I’m _bi—”_

“You were _so_ obsessed with him,” Angela teased. Tony turned a little red and didn’t respond. As confidently as he came out as bi, he still got nervous talking about how he felt about guys at all, even with _Angela._ It was one thing to mention that a guy was cute or to talk about not liking pretty boys, but having crushes and feelings and stuff? He didn’t like admitting that. That was one of several reasons why he hadn’t told her how he felt about Gob yet—

But, _fuck,_ she was going to find out this weekend. He might’ve acted normal around Gob most of the time, but Angela could read him so well and she’d _totally_ guess it and then tease him just as much as Lindsay did. Maybe even more. She even had embarrassing stories she could bring up, or even just mention his old footie pajamas—

Oh. God. 

Gob would see him in his pajamas, wouldn’t he? He stopped by Lindsay’s room when he woke up; they would probably all hang out and, oh _god,_ what was Tony going to wear?

Why had he thought this was a good idea?

Before he could panic anymore, Angela whispered, “I think he’s asking her out!!” She moved in a bit closer, pulling Tony with her, and listened to what the guy was asking.

“It’s real casual, you know. And this Saturday,” he said, obviously trying so hard to be casual himself. 

“Well, I don’t know if I’d want to go by myself,” Chiara said slowly, looking up at the customer through her eyelashes.

Okay, this whole development was really fucking _weird._

He cleared his throat and said, “I mean, if you wanna go, I…I could take you.”

Chiara perked up, smiling, and started to say yes, but then slowly deflated. “Oh…I…I’m sorry; I can’t.” 

“Oh…” 

“I mean, just not _this_ Saturday. Our parents are going out of town, so I’m working close—”

“Can you excuse us for a second?” Daniel asked the guy. “Need to talk to her real quick. Kitchen emergency.”

“Uh, sure?” Before he had even finished his word, Daniel had grabbed Chiara’s arm and was leading her back to the kitchen. Angela and Tony looked at each other and then the customer before following them back. 

“You’re not seriously about to turn down a _date,_ are you?” Daniel asked his sister in a hushed whisper.

Chiara sighed. “I don’t want to, but I _have_ to. I have work.”

“Ki, he’s been trying to ask you out for _ages_ now and he finally got the courage and you’re just going to shut him down?”

“Well, who else is going to watch the kids and help you close and prep for Sunday?”

“I can!” Angela volunteered. Chiara looked at her in surprise. “Hey, I’m not selfish or anything and you _obviously_ need a date.”

 _“Thanks,”_ Chiara said dryly. “But you can’t, anyways. You’re already working eight hours that day and dad would kill us if you worked overtime.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“I’ll do it,” Tony said immediately. Chiara gave him a similar look and he said, “Hey, I also think you need a date. I can work a few hours on Saturday night; just work some of my Sunday hours and we won’t be breaking any labor laws or anything.”

Chiara still looked conflicted. “…I don’t know. There’s the twins and everything—can you really handle them by yourself, Daniel? After work and everything?”

“Hey, I’m on meds; I’m not gonna do anything too crazy,” Daniel said in his defense.

Chiara rolled her eyes. “You know I didn’t mean anything like that.”

“I know. But you know I’ve watched them alone before. It’s really not a big deal.”

“…I know. But I feel bad not spending time with them,” she said softly.

Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Kiki, it’s not like they’re your own kids or anything.”

Despite those words, Chiara ended up just looking more conflicted. She opened her mouth to say something, but Daniel gently, much more gently than Tony could ever remember hearing him speak said, “Ki. You’re not their mother. And even if you were, you wouldn’t have to be there every second.”

Chiara looked at Daniel for a long time. Angela and Tony locked eyes, glad to see the other looked just as confused. There seemed to be some unspoken meaning to all those words. They looked back to their older siblings and, finally, Chiara nodded and said, “You’re right.”

Daniel nodded as well. “Good. Now go out there and tell him that you’ve worked something out and you’d love to see him on Saturday and without an apron on. Maybe even less on if he's lucky.” Chiara rolled her eyes but laughed anyways. 

“Thank you. All of you,” she said, smiling at them before going out of the kitchen. 

* * *

When school ended on Friday, Lindsay met Tony at his locker. “So…you sure you don’t need me to hang out with you at work or anything?” Lindsay asked. “Because you know I’m _totally_ willing to keep you company during your shift.”

Tony sighed. “Lindsay, come on. You can handle hanging out with Ange for just a few hours.”

Lindsay doubted it. She was giving this whole thing a chance because of Tony, but she really wasn’t sure leaving them alone right away was a good move on his part. He had said they’d be able to find some common ground, but Lindsay had changed so much over the past year and Angela clearly hated her so much, there was no way they’d make it out of a few hours alone actually alive.

Still, at Tony’s look, she forced on a smile and said that of course they’d be great. And she did her best to keep that smile on as they waited at her car for Angela to join them. 

It was hard to keep that smile going when Angela finally came outside with one guy holding her books for her and another guy carrying her back-up while she held onto what looked like a pillow she had brought for their little “sleepover”. To be honest, Lindsay was a little impressed at how much attention she was getting and how she had managed to control two guys so easily, but since one of those boys had been a guy Lindsay had kept on her own hook the year before and another was an ex, she was a bit less than pleased.

“Thanks _so_ much for helping me,” Angela said flirtily as the boys put her stuff in the back of Lindsay’s car. “I’m so lucky to have some big, strong men around.”

Tony rolled his eyes as the guys looked pleased with themselves. Angela sent them off, promising she’d see them back at school, and away they went, neither of them noticing Lindsay was even there. 

You’d think the guy who took her virginity at junior prom would at least spare her a fucking glance.

Lindsay got into her car and Tony immediately went to the front seat. Angela raised her eyebrows; it was a family rule that the oldest person sat in the front. But whatever. With how Lindsay was looking at her, she wasn’t sure sitting in the front was the best option.

On the short drive over to the bakery, Tony tried to make conversation. Seeing as he was Tony, it was _not_ his strong suit and it didn’t work out well. 

“So…who were those guys?” Tony asked.

“Max and Jake,” Lindsay provided before Angela could say anything. “Football players. Country club members. Max’s family has a sweet beach cottage—almost as good as ours.”

Angela blinked a few times. “…Uh, yeah. All of that is true, I guess. I’ve heard about the cottage at least…but they’re just friends of mine.” 

Lindsay just barely managed to cover a snort. “Watch out for Max. He’s _very_ grabby when he drinks. And he’s _way_ too into nipple play.”

Tony shot Lindsay a look of surprise. They had talked about many things and, yeah, he knew she wasn’t a virgin or anything, but he hadn’t expected something like _that_ coming out of her mouth.

Angela, however, gave a small laugh. “Nothing wrong with some good nipple play. As long as they aren’t trying to tune a radio the whole time.”

Tony made a face, really not wanting to imagine his sister or his best friend in either scenario. 

“Oh, sorry. I forgot we shouldn’t talk about this stuff in front of Tonio; it makes him rather uncomfortable,” Angela teased, leaning forward to attempt to pinch his currently very red cheeks.

“Shut up! It’s just because it’s _you,”_ Tony said in his defense. He was _totally_ fine talking about sex with anyone else.

_Totally._

Well, Angela figured falling back on teasing Tony was at least one possible way to gain favor with Lindsay. Other people liked it enough. “And that’s why you blush every time we bring up one of your crushes, hmm? Like the Han Solo obsession?”

Tony blushed more at that and Lindsay found herself holding back a laugh. She didn’t want to laugh outright at his embarrassment, but she made a mental note to tease him about how Gob had dressed up like Han for _multiple_ Halloweens.

“Shut up, Ange,” Tony said. 

Thankfully, for his sake, Angela laid off of him after that and they were soon at the bakery. 

“Ma and dad will drop me off later,” Tony said. “I’ll see you guys then. Have fun without me—if you can.”

Though he said it teasingly, Angela and Lindsay made eye contact as he left before Lindsay looked back to the road.

That hope seemed very far away without their one common link nowhere near them.

* * *

Except for Angela finally complimenting Lindsay’s car—she loved anything like Cher Horowitz, what could she say?—the two of them remained silent for the rest of the car ride. Neither of them really knew what to say and even the idea of trying to find common ground on the radio seemed unlikely.  

Angela didn’t even know what to say when they got inside the house. Angela had seen the outside and obviously it was impressive, but the inside was possibly even _prettier._ “Wow,” she whispered to herself, her eyes wide. 

Lindsay just started to take her around, introducing Angela to her maid as “Tony’s sister”. Angela didn’t feel the need to correct her as she waved meekly at her. For someone with such a large personality, she definitely felt lost in such a big, clean, beautiful house.

When they finally reached Lindsay’s room, she felt a lot more at ease. She could definitely deal with her nice room better than the marble tiles of the entryway or the echoing open design of the ground floor. Lindsay’s room was cluttered, full or various art supplies and materials and paintings and even books on the subject. There were a few posters up and some clothes strewn around haphazardly and, thankfully, a TV in the corner.

“…Nice room,” Angela said. It was the first thing she had said to her directly since she complimented her car.

“Thanks,” Lindsay said. “…I figured since Tony saw this as a big sleepover we could all stay in here. But there’s a guest room if you’d prefer that.”

Well, if Lindsay was going to try this, Angela could, too. “Uh, no. No, it’s fine. I can stay here.”

“Cool. Cool, I’ll get our sleeping bags later.”

They both stood awkwardly, neither of them really knowing what to do. Finally, Lindsay said, “So, uh, Tony and I normally just…just chill in here. Watch TV and talk and stuff. Or, well, not always talk that much. He’s normally reading and I’m doing art and stuff until dinner, so…”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s fine,” Angela said. She hesitated before sitting on Lindsay’s bed, not sure if she was okay with people sitting there or not. Thankfully, Lindsay didn’t seem to mind, and she turned on the TV to some junky channel before starting on a painting. Angela watched her for a while; she really didn’t get what she was doing since it was some big cubist thing, but it was still pretty cool.

After a while, she decided she might as well get her homework done and pulled out her math textbook. Making herself more comfortable, she lied down on her stomach with her textbook and notebook in front of her, one of her fuzzy-topped pencils in her hand. 

Lindsay couldn’t help but look at her. With one of her legs popped up being her and that short skirt and the edge of that pencil tapping against her pursed lips, Angela really looked like she was straight out of some sort of _Playboy_ photoshoot. Even Lindsay could admit she looked good—and ridiculously pretty. No wonder Max and Dave and basically half the male population at school were suddenly following Angela around over her.

Lindsay took a moment to be proud of herself, however. Just a few months ago, that thought would’ve made her binge eat in depression and then throw it all up out of regret. She had based so much of her worth in how other people—men in particular—looked at her. But now, even if she was a bit jealous, she mostly felt bitter about Max ignoring her, not that Angela had stolen his attention.

And she kinda felt the oddest urge to draw Angela as well.

She was just about to do that when she heard steps outside of her room.

“Hey, Lindsay,” Gob said on his way by. Out of habit from the last few months, Gob started, “Hey Tony— _woah!”_ He looked at the blonde on Lindsay’s bed, blinking a few times. She looked familiar.

Lindsay said, “Gob, you remember Tony’s sister.”

“Oh. Right. Tony’s sister,” Gob said with a nod of his head.

Angela raised an eyebrow. “You know I have a name, right?”

Gob leaned on the door frame and grinned. “Yeah: Tony’s sister.” Angela laughed, enjoying the grin he sent her. “Nice to see you again.”

Angela smirked back arching her back up a little to get a better look at Gob. Whether she meant to show off some of her cleavage, Lindsay didn’t know, but it definitely did. “Right back at you, Lindsay’s brother.”

“She’s staying over this weekend, too,” Lindsay told her brother.

Gob raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? You’re coming to the flea market, too, then?”

“Flea market?”

“Don’t worry; they don’t sell actual fleas there.”

Angela giggled at what she thought was Gob’s attempt at a joke. Lindsay just rolled her eyes because she knew all too well that her brother very likely looked that up to verify it himself.

“We’re going Saturday morning,” Lindsay told Angela. 

“Oh. I have to work an eight hour shift on Saturday,” Angela said, frowning slightly. Giving Gob a flirtatious grin, she said, “I guess we’ll have to find some other way to have fun this weekend.”

Without thought, Gob grinned back and said, ”Well, my room’s right around the corner if you need someone more entertaining than my sister.”

Not liking how the two of them were looking at each other, Lindsay asked, “Don’t you have to pick up Jesse?” Gob said he was spending the night so the four of them could head out right away on Saturday morning.

“Eh, not for a while,” Gob said before turning back to Angela. “So, Tony's sister, do you bake, too?”

Lindsay gave him a look. Why the fuck was he still talking to her?

“Of course,” Angela said. 

“Do you make as good of cookies as your brother does?”

“No. We all have our specialties and he got the cookie genes,” Angela said. “I’m the best of my siblings at pies, though. My crust is out of this world.”

Gob raised his eyebrows. “Really? So you can make, like, any pie?”

“I can do the basics without a recipe—apple, cherry, pumpkin, pecan.”

Gob gave her a challenging look. “I think I’d have to eat your pie to believe that.”

Angela raised an eyebrow back. She wasn’t sure if that was meant to be an entendre or not, but she wasn’t one to back down from a contest. “Take me to your kitchen, then.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I can’t have people thinking I’m all talk and no action,” Angela said simply to Lindsay as she followed Gob down to the kitchen.

Lindsay was pretty sure no one had an issue thinking she wasn’t all about action. There were already _plenty_ of rumors around her.

“I don’t even know if we have anything for filling,” Lindsay said as they walked into the kitchen.

Angela grabbed an apple from the fruit basket and squeezed it. Ah, perfect firmness. “I prefer using Granny Smith apples in pie, but this will do,” Angela said. Helping herself to a look around the kitchen, she found that they had all the ingredients she would need. She started to collect them when the maid came in to apparently make dinner.

Jesus, this place was like some fucking fantasy.

“…I guess you’ll have to hold off on a taste of me until after dinner,” Angela told Gob. 

“I’ll try to last until then,” Gob replied, that flirty look back on his face.

Angela looked just as flirty. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be nice and hot and _very_ sweet. It’s worth the wait.”

Lindsay looked between the two of them with their matching smirks and felt her stomach sink. She really, _really_ didn’t like where this was going.

And she really, _really_ wished Tony was there.

* * *

As nervous as Tony was to be spending the weekend in such close proximity to Gob, he was excited to get over to the Bluths. The fact that he was going to have time with Angela and Lindsay at the same time was awesome and, yes, even with how nervous he could be around Gob, he liked spending time with him, too. It was the whole crush-maybe-almost-sorta-love thing, after all.

That was why he was annoyed that he had to stop home and then wait for his parents and Lizzie to all be ready to leave after they closed down the bakery. He had already packed, thank you very much, so why hadn’t _they?_

He grabbed his bag from his room and then started to head back downstairs. But then he walked by Lizzie and Pip’s open room and stopped. Pip was hanging out with Mike in the boys’ room, so it was just Lizzie finishing up her packing. Tony walked in after a moment and looked around. It was slightly smaller than the boys’ shared room, but he could totally see the twins or himself living there.

You know, as long as Lizzie actually decided to go to Grove Hills.

“So, you’re really considering that geek school?” Tony asked.

“You mean Grove Hills?” Lizzie asked, obviously not fond of how he was referring to it.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I mean.”

“If they’ll take me, yeah,” Lizzie said.

Tony nodded and smiled. Good. “I could totally see the twins sharing this space,” Tony said, thinking out loud more than really caring about his sister’s input. “It’s pretty gender neutral, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

“Or they could take the room Mike’s in now.”

“I guess.”

“I mean, whenever you visit, I’m sure Michael will end up staying with me. Or maybe you can share with Angie so people don’t have to move around…” He liked that idea the best.

Lizzie snorted. “Yeah, I doubt I’ll be visiting much.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Right. You’ll be too busy being too fancy and too smart for us. Of course.”

Lizzie glared at him. “I’d just rather be in a place where people actually _want_ me.”

Normally Tony would have agreed with that statement like older brothers did. But she actually sounded genuinely upset and it confused him. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? Have you _been_ a member of this family?” Lizzie asked incredulously. 

“If you’re talking about teasing or whatever, we _all_ tease each other—”

“No, I’m not talking about that,” Lizzie said. “I’m talking about how I’m not wanted here. By _anyone.”_ When Tony opened his mouth, she said, “Don’t bother trying to deny it, Tony. You hate me most of all.”

“Lizzie…I don’t hate you,” Tony said quietly.

“Yeah, right,” she responded sarcastically. “That’s why you can’t wait to get me out of here so you can get your own room.”    

“That’s not what I’m saying—”

“Tony! Lizzie! Let’s get going!” Giulia shouted from downstairs.

“Coming, mom!” Lizzie called back. She grabbed her suitcase and walked past Tony, not even looking at him as she turned off the lights to her room.

* * *

Dinner at the Bluth residence that night only consisted of Angela, Gob, Lindsay, Buster, and Lucille. Apparently Michael was staying very late at school for one of his various activities; Lindsay hadn’t bothered figuring out which it was, she just made sure Rosa saved some leftovers.

Angela, who had assumed the stories she heard about Buster were over-the-top pieces of fiction from Pip’s imagination, had quite the shock eating dinner with him. Everything Pip and Lindsay and Tony had said turned out to be true. He was definitely quiet, pale, and already _way_ too dependent on his mother in an unhealthy way. She got why Pip was so curious about him and talked about him so much. She couldn’t even put into words how _weird_ that relationship was.

She did her best to shake herself out of it and made sure to tell Lucille thank you for letting her stay over that weekend. And Lucille was kind and said it was no problem. She seemed nothing like the person Lindsay and Tony had made her out to be.

Well, at first.

Eventually she made a few comments about Angela’s outfit. But, well, she was used to Chiara and her mother both telling her she needed higher tops and longer skirts, so it didn’t really bug her. But when Lucille told her she didn’t look like Tony because she looked “less Jewish”, obviously meaning it as a compliment, Angela definitely felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up from that.

“I’m _very_ proud of being half-Jewish,” Angela told her, eyes narrow. “I may have gotten some of my family’s recessive genes, sure, but I’m very much the same half-Jewish and half-Italian combo as them.”

Lucille’s eyebrows raised. “You’re half-Italian, too?” She made a noise like a snort and said, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised—New Jersey makes mutts like that all the time.” 

Lindsay took in the look on Angela’s face and knew she was ready to kill her mother on the spot. Tony got just as mad when people confused New Jersey and New York.

“She’s from New York, mom,” Lindsay said quickly. And, changing the subject, Lindsay added, “She also agreed to make us a pie for dessert. Her whole family bakes.”

Angela took a deep breath and nodded. “I thought it would be a way to show you how thankful I am that you’re letting me and Tonio stay over.”

“That sounds lovely,” Lucille said, a fake smile back on her face. She looked to her daughter and added, “As long as you make sure not to eat the whole thing, of course.”

Lindsay felt her stomach seize up. As much progress as she had made in therapy, hearing comments like that from her mom still made her tempted to fall back into bad habits. Having Angela right there didn’t help matters. She blushed and tensed as she nodded in response. She knew fighting back wasn’t going to help; not at the moment.

 _“Mom,”_ Gob tried to say in an attempt to get attention off of Lindsay, but Lucille played innocent.

“I’m just worried for her health and waistline. Nothing wrong with that.”

Angela gave Lindsay a concerned glance. When Lindsay said the painting had been about her, Angela had suddenly understood a lot more about her. She also definitely understood why Tony had made that awful, _awful_ poem. It definitely made her feel bad for some things she had said to her, too.

And seeing Lindsay’s own mom saying things like that to a daughter she _had_ to know was suffering from those insecurities made Angela dislike the woman even more.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Bluth. One slice of an apple pie has got to have about the same amount of calories as a vodka martini. I’ll make sure she has less than how many you’ve had tonight,” Angela said with a sweet smile. “Of course, that’s not saying much.”

Gob snorted at that and Lindsay gave Angela an appreciative glance.

Okay, maybe having her around wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing.

* * *

Tony was a bit surprised when he got to the Bluth’s place to find Angela and Lindsay eating apple pie in the kitchen. Freshly baked apple pie, by the smell of it.

“Woah, Angela made pie? Sweet,” Tony said, eagerly taking a slice. He could really use it after that conversation with Lizzie. 

He really didn’t know what to make of it. Did Lizzie _really_ think he hated her or was she just exaggerating to be dramatic? He had done the same thing many times, after all, and, while he hated admitting it, he knew he and Lizzie probably had the most similar personalities of everyone in the family.

That was why they really couldn’t get along. While they were all stubborn and dramatic, he and Lizzie had a competitive need for attention that heightened those other traits. As overwhelmed as Tony could be by his family when they all had attention on him, he _did_ like to get it from time to time. And it used to be by getting good grades, too, but then Lizzie came and skipped a whole fucking grade and got labeled as “gifted” and suddenly Tony’s place as the Smart One was taken. 

It really wasn’t fair. Chiara was the Oldest One, the adult. Daniel was the Troubled One, the one who got attention because of all of his demons. Angela was the Joker, the one who made people laugh more than anyone else—though someone would argue that she was just the Hot One. Pip was the Baby and Mike…Mike was the Observer. The Good Kid, really, since he didn’t make a fuss or cause problems. And, as mentioned, Lizzie was the Smart One.

So then there was Tony. And when the smart title was taken from him, he ended up becoming the Not-Depressed One. The Sarcastic One. The Mature One. 

Notice how all of them felt like knock-offs of all of his older siblings?

So, yeah, maybe he felt a bit out of place in his family and lost in the shuffle. Maybe he had taken that out on Lizzie a little. But he really didn’t think she had thought he _hated_ her. And, yeah, it felt bad to know she thought that was true.

But before he could think of talking to Angela or Lindsay about it, Michael got home. He went straight for the fridge to find the leftovers from dinner, but then froze, tupperware container of food in his hand as he saw Angela.

“A-Angela,” he stuttered out after a long moment. Lindsay and Tony made entertained eye contact as her usually robotic brother started to short-circuit at the sight of Angela in his kitchen. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I told you that Tony and Angela were spending the weekend,” Lindsay said.

“Oh…oh, yeah, right,” Michael said. “I just…I forgot, yeah.”

Angela really loved making guys go dumb over her, but it was particularly fun with Michael. She batted her eyelashes and said, “Thank you _so_ much for letting me stay over. Between this and you watching the twins a few weeks ago, I _really_ don’t know what I’d do without your help.”

Michael grinned, blushing hard. “I…I mean, I’m glad I could…could help.” As if he had been a part of the decision to have them stay at all.

“I got you something sweet to show how grateful I am,” Angela said. She held up the pie dish and said, “I made it myself. I hope you like it.”

“I don’t know, Angie; if I recall, Michael’s more of a candy bean person,” Tony said. He still couldn’t believe the guy thought feeding two children a huge bowl of fucking jelly beans was the right snack choice.

“Oh, you’re right,” Angela said with a slight pout. “Oh, god, I guess you probably wouldn’t like this, huh?”

“Hey! I like pie, too,” Michael said quickly. “I’d love to have some of your pie, yeah, totally.”

“Really? I’m glad to hear that,” Angela said. “But be careful with the filling; it’s _really_ sticky.” Her voice was unnecessarily breathy and flirty and made it sound all too sexual.

Michael swallowed audibly. "…Yeah?"

“Oh, yes. It tastes great, though. It’s just hot, sticky, sweet,” Angela said. “In fact, I think I should go take a shower now. A nice, long, hot one. I'd love to get a little wet right now.” 

“M-my bathroom’s open,” Michael said all too quickly.

Lindsay snorted. “You fucking _perv.”_ Michael started to stutter a rebuttal, but Lindsay ignored him and told Angela, “Go ahead in mine. I don’t want him trying to spy on you.”

Angela grinned and stood up. “Aww, Michael’s _much_ to sweet to do that. He’s too nice.” She smiled at him and said, “It’s what’s so great about him. He’s just so nice and smart.” He smiled brightly at that, even if he was still red in the face. Angela smiled at him before stretching her hands above her head, the move just emphasizing her chest and making Michael stare helplessly as the tupperware fell out of his hand and onto the floor.

“Oh, no, let me get that for you,” Angela said. Both Tony and Lindsay could barely hold back laughs as she bent over in front of him to grab it. Michael’s eyes widened to a comically large size as he blushed even more, obviously trying not to stare but failing.

Once Angela was standing back up, she handed him the tupperware and then excused herself to go up to Lindsay’s room. She sent Tony and Lindsay a wink over her shoulder before she disappeared up the stairs.

“God, she’s _good,”_ Lindsay said with a small laugh. Even _she_ felt a bit heated from watching that.

“You okay there, Michael? If not, I bet your shower’s open for a nice cold one,” Tony said. Lindsay laughed even louder at that and Michael sent him a glare.

But Lindsay got the second act in the double act show. Because a few minutes after Michael heated his dinner, Gob and Jesse came in from the garage. 

“Oh, hey, Tony,” Gob said.

“H-hey,” Tony said. He had been so focused on Michael and Angela’s display that he had briefly forgotten that Gob would be around at some point. “How’s it going?”

“Good. Your sister made pie,” he said, as if that hadn’t been obvious.

It apparently hadn’t been to Jesse, who looked at it with wide eyes. “Woah. Pie?”

“Yeah, have a slice,” Gob said, clapping him on the shoulder before turning back to Tony. “It was really cool to watch her make it. She didn’t need measuring cups or anything; I always see Rosa use measuring cups and shit.”

“Yeah we, uh, all do that with our baking,” Tony said. “At least eventually and at our specialty. You make something enough, you end up becoming an expert at seeing how much you need of anything.”

“Really? That’s really cool.”

Tony couldn’t help but grin widely and mumble a thanks and blush at getting complimented. He ducked his head slightly as he blushed, unaware that Michael saw that reaction.

“The pie’s good,” Gob admitted, “but I hope you make those cookies again while you’re here. I’ve never had better oatmeal raisin cookies.”

Michael raised his eyebrows as Tony seemed to smile even more. “I-I could totally do that, yeah. As long as you guys have raisins and oats and everything, yeah. I-I’d love to. You know, to show I’m thankful you guys are letting me stay and everything.”

“Yeah? Sweet. Thanks, Tony.”

“No problem,” Tony said.

As Gob and Jesse headed up the stairs, Tony watched them, his eyes not leaving the staircase until he heard Gob’s bedroom door shut behind him.

He looked back over at Lindsay, who had a huge grin on her face. Tony blushed automatically and immediately told her, “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Lindsay said, clearly holding back laughter. “I was just enjoying how _smooth_ you were.”

_“Shut up.”_

Lindsay chuckled and brought her dish over to the dishwasher. Tony’s eyes locked with Michael’s and he tensed for a moment. Even if Gob wasn’t straight, Michael could still easily be a homophobe, right? 

But he simply looked Tony in the eyes and said, “I don’t think you get to make fun about me around your sister anymore.”

“…I guess that’s fair.”

* * *

Angela wasn’t naturally a morning person. Whenever her alarm clock went off, she always got up, but she’d grumble about it and normally have to spend at least fifteen minutes to get herself out of bed. Her snooze button was _heavily_ abused. Tony was more or less the same, but he was slightly better about hitting the snooze button.

But when she heard a knock at Lindsay’s door and then Lindsay’s voice calling out to come back at six, Angela immediately sat up. Tony immediately woke up with a start and  pulled his sleeping bag over his head as he heard the door open. Angela quickly smoothed out her hair before Gob turned on the light. “It _is_ six.”

Lindsay sat up and glared at him. “Then why are you so damn chipper?”

“We didn’t bother going to bed,” Gob said as if that was the smart solution. "It was easier than trying to get up this early."

“Of course,” Lindsay grumbled.

Angela pulled herself out of her sleeping bag, revealing her short-short pajama bottoms and her tiny teddy top. “Oh, sorry we woke you,” Gob told her.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I have to get ready for work, anyways,” Angela said with a smile. “And I like to get a nice stretch to get my day going.”

“Cool.” Gob looked over to where Tony was and asked, “You awake, Tony?”

“Yeah,” Tony called from his sleeping bag. “I’ll be ready in a sec.”

“Cool,” Gob repeated. “We’ll go load the van.”

“The van?”

“You know, the Tank,” Jesse provided. It was what they loaded up for gigs. And it was somehow even worse to travel in than the freaking limo.

 _“Great,”_ Lindsay sighed. She had really hoped they’d just take Gob’s car. “We’ll be down soon.”

With that Gob closed the door and Angela frowned. What happened to the guy who had been flirting with her the day before?

Tony breathed a sigh of relief and sat up, the old AC/DC shirt he wore to bed showing. That was a close one; he didn’t want Gob to see him until he was actually awake. He stood up and started to go over to his bag to grab his actual clothes as Angela started to stretch. She actually _did_ do that to get her mornings started, it wasn’t just an attempt to flirt with Gob.

Suddenly the door opened again and Gob added, “Don’t forget to bring some money.” Tony froze and Gob looked over at his outfit. “Huh. Okay shirt, but your Queen one was better.” He looked over to Angela, who had her legs wide open and, though he didn’t say anything, he did shoot her an approving look before he closed the door again.

Angela grinned while Tony looked ready to die.

Lindsay sighed. This was going to be a long weekend.

* * *

Once they were at the flea market, the set-up was left to Lindsay and Tony. Jesse and Gob had, predictably, fallen asleep at the table.

Tony supposed he should’ve felt annoyed, and maybe he was, but he also couldn’t stop himself from staring at Gob.

Tony hadn’t really thought about what Gob would look like sleeping—he really _hadn’t_ —but if he had, he would’ve thought that he’d be like…well, not like that. He would’ve expected drool and spread out limbs, if only because he had such an unnecessarily large bed to match his unnecessarily tall body, but Gob seemed to have curled up on himself and just looked…peaceful.

Or maybe Tony just had it that bad.

“Why are you staring at my brother?” Lindsay asked.

“Selfless concern,” Tony lied. “I think he’s stopped breathing.”

“Nah, he’s just entered a dormant state. In about ten years he should emerge as a butterfly,” Lindsay said. Tony continued to stare, unable to take his eyes off of him. “…I guess you’re gonna wait.” Tony hit Lindsay’s arm. “Ow! Just because you have a crush on him doesn’t mean you get to be mean to me—”

“I don’t have a _crush_ on him!” Tony whispered harshly. “And can we have this conversation when he’s _not_ less than five feet away?”

“Tony, I know my brother. He could sleep through a hurricane,” she said with a laugh. But, in a softer voice, she asked, “But what are you saying? Are you in _love_ with him or something?” 

“…No,” Tony said, turning bright red. Lindsay raised her eyebrows and he said, “I don’t know! I just…it’s nothing, shut up. Just…attraction and infatuation.”

“Jesus…how can you even have feelings when you can barely talk to him?” Lindsay asked.

“I can talk to him just fine! Especially one one one!” Tony exclaimed. And that was true. Tony had managed to successfully talk to Gob multiple times in one-on-on situations. It was easier when Lindsay wasn't there to tease him or other people weren't around watching him. He cleared his throat and made sure Gob and Jesse were still asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief and said, “It’s nothing, okay? So just drop it. Especially when my sister’s around.”

“Why? She knows you’re bi.”

“Yeah, but…I don’t like talking about this stuff with her,” Tony said quietly. “I love her and I know she accepts me but…I don’t know. It’s weird talking about feelings things with my family. I don’t know.”

Well, at least that explained why Angela was flirting with Gob so relentlessly; she just didn’t know how her brother felt about him. But that mean he had to tell her before she made a move that Gob, the slut he was, possibly reciprocated, breaking Tony’s heart. 

“You should tell her,” Lindsay said. “I mean, she should know if you’re all in love or whatever—”

“I’m not in love!” Tony insisted. “I just…I…” Tony trailed off, not sure what to say. He still didn’t know what he felt—did he love Gob or not? Was it possible to be in love when they had only had a few conversations that weren’t at a loud club where Gob had played a gig? It had to be just a dumb crush.

But he had gotten over all his other crushes so quickly. Why would he still be interested in Gob if it wasn’t something more?

Tony shook his head and picked up an album—Velvet Underground’s debut. “Should this go under ‘self-important posers’ or ‘underrated geniuses’?” Tony asked Lindsay in order to change the subject.

As much as Lindsay wanted to stay on the subject at hand, she figured they might as well end it there. “I don’t know. I’d personally put most male bands in the former, but maybe you should ask Gob or Jesse—whoever wakes up first.”

Tony laughed slightly and went back to organizing with Lindsay. He was just glad the subject was dropped for now.

* * *

"Not to sound like my dad, but what a dirty bunch of hippies," Lindsay said as she looked around the shoppers. Every now and then a young person popped up in the crowd, but most everyone shopping looked like they'd be right at home with her Uncle Oscar. She half-expected him to be selling his awful lemonade in one of the drink kiosks. 

Tony nodded. "It's like a lamer, music-free version of Woodstock."

"Any chance we have  _that_ record on sale? Sounds like a riot," Lindsay said sarcastically. The two of them shared appreciative smiles before returning to people watching.

It was about an hour after they set up when they heard a voice ask, “Hey, you thirsty?”

Tony looked up, surprised. Lindsay seemed surprised, too. “When did _you_ wake up?” 

Gob shrugged. “I don’t know. Couple minutes ago?” He looked back to Tony and asked, “Wanna grab a soda? With some caffeine?”

Tony was perplexed as to why Gob was asking him, but Lindsay said, “Grab us some while you’re at it.” 

“Cool,” Gob said with a shrug. He go out from behind the table and, again, turned to Tony. “You coming?”

With that, Tony got out from the table and followed him. “Take your time!” Lindsay called after them, giving Tony a smile even as he turned back to glare at her.

When they got to a kiosk selling some food and snacks, Gob ordered them cokes and paid before Tony could get out his wallet. “Thanks. I owe you one,” Tony said as he took the beverage.

“Nah, it’s cool.” 

Instead of going back to their own set-up, Gob led them to a sitting area near the food kiosk. “Gotta get away from Jesse for a bit. I was up all night with him; I could use a break.”

Tony let out a small air of laughter. “Yeah. I doubt he provides the most stimulating conversation.”

“Most people don’t,” Gob said. “You do, though.”

Tony felt his lips twitch up even as his face heated up a little. “…Thanks.” He cleared his throat and said, “I like talking to you, too.” He quickly took a sip of his soda, a long one through his straw, just so he wouldn’t say anything else.

Gob nodded and looked at him curiously. 

“So, Linds said you’re avoiding being alone with your siblings, huh? With your parents out of town?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. 

“You know, whenever my parents would go out of town, I'd throw a party. I had a _lot_ of ragers back in my high school days,” Gob said with a small smile.

Tony laughed. “Yeah, well, my oldest siblings are basically my parents. Kiki is nine years older than me and Daniel is seven years older.”

“And they _still_ live at home?” Gob paused and said, “Guess I can’t judge since I still live at home.”

“Yeah, but you’re, what, twenty?” Tony asked. 

“Almost twenty-one.”

“Yeah, so you’re only, like, three years older than me. That’s nothing compared to how much older _they_ are,” Tony said. After a moment, he said, “They’re moving out soon-ish, though. They found a place and they’re moving in after the holidays.”

“Ah. One last Hanukkah under the same roof?”

Tony laughed slightly. “I mean, yeah. But Christmas, too—we celebrate both. And Hanukkah really isn’t that big of a holiday.”

Gob tilted his head. “Eight nights isn’t big?”

“Well, yeah, it’s long, but it’s not the most important Jewish holiday. Some people just make it a big deal because it’s around the same time as Christmas,” Tony explained. “Like, once I’m away in college back in New York, I’m probably gonna come down over winter break and if it coincides with Hanukkah, cool. If it doesn’t, that’s also cool. It’s not really something we _need_ to celebrate together.”

“Huh…” Gob nodded. “I never knew that.”

“If you’re not Jewish you don’t really need to.”

Gob nodded. After having a sip of his drink, he asked, “So, you still hate California enough you wanna move away?”

Tony laughed. “I don’t know if it’s so much a hating California thing or a loving New York thing. I always wanted to be in New York City—I always hated that we were so close but still so far from there. But I still miss Long Island, too.”

“I’d guess I’d miss other people having the same accent as me.”

“I don’t have an accent.”

“Nah, you do,” Gob said with a chuckle. Before Tony could argue that he didn’t, Gob said, “You should embrace it. It’s cool. Kinda cute, too.”

That made Tony turn bright red and take another long sip of his drink, even as Gob seemed completely oblivious to his reaction.

“I guess I get it, though,” Gob said. “The whole missing your home thing. It’s why I never left here.”

Tony inspected the lid of his cup for a few moments, not wanting to look at Gob before he explained, “I just can’t imagine having a home here. No offense, it’s just…I don’t know. Not where I’d want to stay forever." He shrugged and tried to reason, "I’m not really a sun person.”

“Ha. Well, yeah, that affects if you’d like this place or not,” Gob said with a nod. “Maybe we’re both just stuck in our ways.”

“Maybe.” 

Gob looked around at the vendors around and all the people shopping. “I guess I shouldn’t judge these people, then. They’re just set in their ways, too. Even if they _are_ a bunch of dirty hippies. My parents would hate them—which I guess is worth something.” Gob and Tony both laughed at that.

“It’s kinda cool they believed in stuff back then. Peace and love and all of that,” Tony said. “…But my bitter 90s cynicism and inner New Yorker can’t stand that stuff.” 

“You should give their weed a try, though. That’s enough to make you think about peace and free love as a good thing.”

Tony shook his head. “No thanks, man. I did it a couple of times in New York. Not my thing.”

Gob raised his eyebrows. “You partied, huh? Impressive.”

Tony laughed slightly. “Just a couple of times. Only when Angie would drag me out of the house.”

They both had sips of their drinks and then Gob looked him over. “You’re really close to her, huh? Angie?”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Do _not_ call her that—she’ll _kill_ you,” he warned. “I’m literally the only person allowed to call her that. Even our parents can’t.” 

“Woah. Got it…and I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Well, yeah. We _are_ close. Until Lindsay, she was really kinda my only friend,” Tony admitted. “…I don’t tend to like people.”

“I figured most New Yorkers don’t.”

That made Tony laugh. “True, I guess. But I kinda take it farther than most New Yorkers, I think.” He shrugged and looked down at his drink. “I don’t know why, but most people don’t interest me.” He finally looked back up at Gob and admitted, “You do, though.”

Gob’s lips twitched upward. “…Thanks, man.” 

Okay, so the thing was, Gob had pulled the classic "pretend you're asleep until all the work is done" move. As in he hadn't been sleeping at all.

Well, to be fair, he drifted off at one point, but it was only after he heard Lindsay and Tony talk about how Tony had a crush or feelings or whatever for  _him._

God, Gob couldn’t believe Tony had a crush on _him_ of all people. Tony, who admittedly hated most people liked _him?_ How weird was _that?_  

It wasn’t like Gob thought he wasn’t worthy of love or anything or that he was completely lame. He just was so confused why some cool, ambitious New Yorker would be interested in someone like him: a cool, lazy Californian. It was honestly flattering. And deeply confusing. And it made Gob want to know more about him to figure out how the hell that crush had happened.

After a pause, Gob added, “You interest me, too.” And, without thinking about it, he mirrored Tony’s earlier action and had a long sip of his drink to avoid talking. He didn't want to embarrass the little guy by letting him know he knew about the crush or anything.

* * *

The flea market turned out to be a total bust. Lindsay stepped away to find food at one point and then, obviously not thinking, Jesse went to find a bathroom. By the time the four of them got back to the booth, all the vinyls had been stolen.

“Doesn’t seem very peace and love or whatever,” Lindsay said.

Tony shrugged. “They’re into free love, so of course they consider anything they love to be free.”

Gob and Lindsay both laughed. Gob added, “At least they’ve found good homes with people stuck in their ways, huh, Tony?” 

“Let’s just hope the records don’t get stuck, too,” Tony added. Gob smiled at him and Tony smiled back. 

Lindsay looked between the two of them and raised her eyebrows. Hopefully that was at least a good sign that Gob wasn’t going to go off with Angela later that day.

* * *

Once Lindsay dropped off Tony at the bakery and picked up Angela, the two of them went to the drugstore to pick out some dye for Lindsay's hair. They also grabbed some food while they were out, somehow managing to make light conversation as they did so. Just some talk about TV shows they liked and movies they wanted to see. Nothing really exciting.

Once they were back in Lindsay’s room, they got into their pajamas to try to get into the sleepover spirit. Angela mixed the dye with excitement and told Lindsay what she envisioned. Lindsay had never seen her so animated or excited, even when she laughed and joked around with Tony in art class.

“You really love this stuff, huh?” Lindsay asked as Angela started to pull out some foil in preparation.

Angela shrugged but smiled. “I do, yeah.” She laughed slightly. “I know it probably just makes me sound more superficial or whatever, but I’ve seen people get haircuts that literally change their lives. Cuts that make them more confident, colors that get them out of their shell…I don’t think beauty is everything, but I don’t think it’s wrong to want to be your own definition of beautiful, you know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that,” Lindsay said. “I guess my idea of beauty has just changed over the last year.”

“We’re constantly changing,” Angela said simply. 

As Angela started to apply the dye, using foil to help separate the colors, they started talking about the main thing they had in common: Tony. They both had good stories to share with the other, but Angela obviously had the best ones, including a story about how Tony once tried to change his name to  _Patrick_ of all things.

“Tonio just _hates_ his name,” Angela said with a laugh. “But most of my family hates their names. Except me—it’s why I’m the only one who goes by my full name. Well, Chiara, too, but we rarely call her that in our family.”

“To be fair, you _did_ sorta end up with the most normal name of the bunch,” Lindsay told Angela. 

Angela shrugged. “My first name is normal at least, yeah. But I also wasn’t named after anyone like most of my family is.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Angela explained, “Chiara’s named after our ma’s grandma—her middle name was kinda a pun, though. Chiara Lucia—it means ‘bright light’.” She grinned and said, “It’s why I call her Lite-Brite—which she _hates._ She also hates when people call her Kiki, but we all call her that. We couldn’t say ‘Chiara’ when we were first learning to talk, so…” Angela shrugged. “Daniel gets away with it a bit more since she's always been his Ki, but he would just do it more if she fought him on it.” Lindsay laughed quietly with her.

“Daniel’s named after our dad. Dad’s name is Daniel Alexander Wunderlich, and Daniel is _Daniele Alessandro Wunderlich.”_ Angela rolled her eyes slightly. “It’s honestly a bit much and I think they should’ve just stuck with the same name instead of making it so Italian but whatever.

“Then there’s me—Angela Benita. Blessed angel,” she said with a slight smile. “Well, I guess it’s really ‘messenger of God’, but same diff.” 

“That’s a nice meaning.”

Angela smiled. “Yeah…my ma had a few miscarriages between me and Daniel. So, my parents considered me ‘blessed’, hence the middle name.” After a moment, she said, “And Tony’s named after ma’s dad. Lizzie has the Italian version of my dad’s mom’s name. And the twins…” Angela shook her head with a small laugh. “I think they just ran out of Italian names and kinda stuck them with the worst ones. Filippa Sofia isn’t _that_ bad, but Michelangelo Gian…” Both Angela and Lindsay laughed at that.

“Well, it’s cool that most of you guys all have specific reasons, at least,” Lindsay said. “The only specific name we have is Gob’s, and he doesn’t even go by it.” 

“Ha, right. But I like his name. I think it’s cool. Original. A nice spin on a rather lame full name,” Angela said. "No offense to your dad's name or whatever."

“…Right,” Lindsay said. She hadn’t meant to get on the subject of her brother. 

 _“He’s_ actually really cool, too,” Angela said. “Like, again, no offense, but after I met Michael, I just assumed you were the only possibly cool person in your family.”

“I think I’m kinda cooler than Gob,” Lindsay said.

“You’re pretty cool,” Angela admitted. “Gob’s cute, though. I mean, you are, too, but like, you know, unlike Tony, I’m only into guys. And Gob? He’s _definitely_ my type of guy.”

“…You don’t want to, like, date him or anything, do you?”

Angela laughed. “Oh _god,_ no.” 

Lindsay breathed a sigh of relief.

“I just want to sleep with him.”

_“What?”_

Angela gave her a look. “What? He’s hot, he’s obviously interested, and he’s older. I’m eighteen, so it’s not like he’d be breaking the law, so it’s all good.” She shrugged as she continued to work on Lindsay's hair, as if this was some average, every day conversation. And maybe it was for her, but it  _definitely_ wasn't for Lindsay.

Lindsay didn’t know what to say. Not only would that break Tony’s heart—and she couldn’t even tell Angela that—but going after Gob wouldn’t end well for _her,_ either. She’d either be used to try to make himself straight or she’d be outright rejected  _because_ her brother wasn't straight.

“You…I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Well, I’d _hope_ you wouldn’t do that since you’re his sister,” Angela joked, keeping the conversation light as she normally tried to do.

“Well, yeah, of course, but…I don’t think Gob’s your type.”

Angela laughed. “Tony likes to say my type is anyone who breathes, so…”

Okay, even if she couldn’t rat out her brother, she could at least hint at it, right? “Well, maybe you aren’t Gob’s type?”

“What ‘type’ am I that he doesn't like?" Angela asked, the slightest edge to her voice.

 _Female_ is what Lindsay wanted to say. But instead, she said, “Just…he’s more into brunettes.”

Angela narrowed her eyes and she asked, while still trying to keep her voice light, “Do you think I’m not good enough for your brother or something?” 

“What?”

“I mean, I _know_ you think because I’m a cheerleader I’m dumb or not as cool as you and Tony think you are, but I’m not some bimbo, you know.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because you’ve judged me from the second we met.”

“Like you haven’t judged _me?”_

“You judged me first! We were getting along just fine our first day in art class, but then I joined the cheerleading squad and you acted like I was poisonous or something.”

“Excuse me for having some hatred against a group that did nothing to help my body image, okay?”

“Excuse me for not liking people judging me because I happen to dye my hair blonde and enjoy waving fucking pom-poms around!”

“Excuse me for judging someone who randomly announces she wants to sleep with my brother!” Lindsay fired back. “Who the fuck does that?”

“Says the girl who randomly told me some guy liked to tweak her nipples too much?”

“I figured you probably already knew that about him since you’ve already fucked half your grade anyways!” 

That made Angela’s face contour into one of pure fury. Her voice was quiet but intense as she said, “Are you calling me a slut?”

Lindsay wasn’t one to back down. Ever. “If the shoe fits.”

Angela looked at Lindsay and then the hair dye and, though she was angry about it, she told Lindsay, “I still have one more foil to do. And I’m not letting your bitchiness ruin my own artwork.” With that, she yanked a bit harder than necessary on Lindsay’s hair and colored one last section.

“Hey, I’m not sure what you're into, but I’m not into hair pulling,” Lindsay said through gritted teeth.

“Like you’ve had enough sex to know what you’re into,” Angela replied instantly.

“Sorry that I happen to filter people instead of letting anyone come to me.”

“At least I actually _get_ to come from ways that aren’t my hand,” Angela said with a smirk as she sealed the final foil. 

“Like any guy here can do better than my vibrator can,” Lindsay said through a snort.

Angela laughed, but it was a very dry one. “You know what, that’s something we can actually agree on. Because, believe it or not, I actually haven’t fucked _anyone_ here. I haven’t had anything besides fingers in me since New York. But good to know that, after you thought your life was destroyed by a lie that a student told, you’d go ahead and believe anything said about me.”

Angela stood up and said, “Wash that out in thirty minutes. Or don’t, I don’t care.” She threw her hands up and said, “What do I know? I’m just a slut who’s gonna go fuck your brother!”

With that, Angela stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

Lindsay looked at the closed door. Angela really did have a point there; she shouldn’t have believed those rumors. She knew just how much that school liked to lie. Lindsay then looked to the clock. Tony was supposed to be dropped off in a bit less than an hour. And he was likely to come over to his crush getting fucked by his sister who now hated her more than ever.

“…Shit.”

* * *

After taking a moment to cool down, Angela, a determined look on her face, followed the sound of Gob practicing down in the basement. It was a bit chilly down there, chillier than she expected, but being in just her pajamas probably wasn’t helping things; the fabric was _very_ thin. But, hey, if she got cold and it showed off more of her assets, what did she care?

She listened as Gob worked on a song he had obviously just started writing as he plucked out some chords on a guitar.

 _[I’m glad you’re happy watching my pain](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3ITYLchLpU) _ _  
__Burning crop circles on my soul’s waves of grain!_ _  
__We had no love scene, but you cut to the chase_ _  
__You’re chopping off my nose just to spite my face!_ _  
__Ow—my nose! Ow—my face!_

…Or at least she _hoped_ he had just started writing it.

Once he seemed to finish what he had written, Angela clapped for him and Gob turned around in surprise. “Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Angela said. “Lindsay’s washing out her hair dye and I heard you playing…just wanted to hear you in person.”

Gob nodded.

“You know, Tony told me you were good, but I didn’t realize you were _that_ good.”

“…He told you about me?”

“Tony? Yeah, he’s mentioned you a few times. I mean, he’s always over here,” Angela said with a shrug.

“…Right,” Gob said, turning back to his notebook. 

Angela stared. What was going on? They had great banter just a day ago…

She moved to sit down on one of the amps. “Can you play all these instruments?”

Gob looked around. “…Yeah. More or less,” he said with a proud smile. 

“Lindsay and Tony say you’re a classical pianist—or at least you used to be?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s how I started out.”

“Do you still play classical music?”

“Sometimes,” Gob replied.

“I love classical music,” Angela said, just trying to keep the conversation going.

Gob raised an eyebrow and lifted his head up from his notebook. “…Really?”

“Totally.”

“Who’s your favorite composer?”

Angela _did_ have an answer to that one. Sort of. “Well, obviously not Wagner, because he was, like, Hitler’s inspiration. But obviously Mozart. I mean, _Amadeus_ is such a great movie, right?”

Gob snorted and said, “Good movie, but an overrated composer.” 

Angela raised an eyebrow. “Than who’s your favorite, then?”

“Liszt is my absolute favorite. Chopin and Rachmaninoff are close seconds. Bach’s pretty cool, too. Oh, and Debussy—not too bad for being French,” Gob listed off easily, not even lifting his head from his notebook. Angela had heard all those names—at least she was pretty sure she had—but she definitely had no way of talking about any of them. But she knew something she  _could_ talk about.

“…I heard you’re a big fan of Queen and Freddie Mercury?”

Gob finally stopped everything. “I _love_ Queen. More than anything.”

Angela smiled; she could talk about this. “Queen is my absolute favorite band. There’s never gonna be another like them, you know?”

“Oh, totally. They were just four misfits who somehow fit together. It’s insane how they managed to make all this iconic music—”

Angela kept nodding as Gob went on about how great Queen was. She’d say a few words of agreement every now and then, but she mostly let him rant for a few minutes. It was only when he seemed to finally stop to just take a fucking breath that she smiled and said, “You know, you kinda remind me of Freddie Mercury.”

Gob looked proud at that. “Really?”

“Yeah. An amazing pianist who can also play guitar and write songs and sing? And your sound…it’s got a bit of a dark edge to it, right? Just like Freddie’s did. Compared to the other band member's stuff at least.”

Gob smiled even more, looking really flattered.

Leaning forward slightly, Angela added, “And you’re definitely just as sexy as him." She smirked and added, "Maybe even sexier.”

Gob froze. Was she…was she trying to make a move on him? For real? He had thought they were just flirting for fun the other day…she didn’t really think he was interested, did she?

“…Aren’t you cold?” Gob asked, unable to stop himself from eyeing up Angela’s legs, but only because they were _right there._ It didn’t seem like she minded, seeing as she seemed to be angling her crossed legs towards him. Where had he heard that legs crossed towards someone was an unequivocal sex invite?

She leaned back on her hands, her chest sticking out a little more as she smiled towards him. “I’ve always run kinda hot.” She laughed quietly before saying, “That’s what people tell me at least.”

Oh. Yeah. Okay, she was definitely hitting on him. And in seriousness, too, not like the playful flirting he had been doing yesterday.

Well. Fuck.

Gob had been trying to figure out his sexuality after the conversation with his bandmates. As mad as he had been with them, he knew that if even _they_ thought he was gay, and if they were cool with it, it was both obvious and not even a bad thing. Like, it was one thing for Lindsay to tell him it was fine, but she was his sister; she _had_ to say shit like that. But his bandmates were okay with it and they didn’t have to say they were, you know?

So, that made him think about it. And the truth was, he didn’t know what to say still. He had slept with both guys and girls, but, more and more, he was starting to ignore any girls that came to his gigs. He was rather disinterested by any girl that came his way—blonde or brunette, Mexican or regular—he just didn’t care for any of them. He liked talking to them just fine, but he found himself wanting to find a guy to spend the night with. 

And while he had found he had certain types of guys he normally looked for, he still was open to a lot more of them than he had ever been with girls in the past.

And not just open like his legs. But those were _definitely_ open and he _definitely_ had envied how far Angela had spread hers that morning.

But, regardless, he didn’t know what he was. Sexuality wise. He just knew he liked sex with guys but he _could_ have sex with girls. If he wanted to. Because he  _had._

And it was clear that Angela, in her tiny teddy and sleep shorts that showed off all that leg, was game for anything. Her face and body language said it all. And, even a few weeks ago, he probably would’ve at least made out with her. Confusing sexuality or not, kissing was still nice. And Gob liked the chase, but he also didn’t turn people down. Like, never. At least not hot ones like Angela. 

But this was Tony’s _sister._

When he first heard that conversation that morning, he had been sure he had misunderstood, because he had no idea Tony was interested in him. There was _no way_ he was. But it all was starting to make sense, like why he got weirdly shy around him despite how Lindsay had stories about him saying so many things to everyone else. It made sense why he got a slight blush around him. It made sense why, despite the fact he was finally talking around him, Tony still seemed so nervous at times.

And Angela was his _sister._ The sibling he was closest to, apparently. And that meant Tony would surely find out if they did anything.

And he knew that if Tony found out, he’d be hurt. Gob couldn’t imagine any sibling stealing someone he was interested in from him—because, come on, who would choose any of his siblings over _him?—_ but that would totally suck if it ever happened.

…And, god _damn_ it, even if there was no way Tony could find out about Angela, Gob just couldn’t go through with it. Not when he knew how Tony felt. Even if he never found out, Gob would just feel… _bad._

And even if Tony wasn’t interested in him, a voice nagged him to remind him that he wasn’t really interested in Angela, either. Despite how willing and hot she was, he really just wasn’t into it.

Gob shook himself out of his thoughts and looked at Angela. It was getting very clear she had to be at least a _little_ bit cold, because with her chest sticking out like that in her silky top, parts of her body were definitely reacting to the basement’s temperature. 

“…I’d put on a sweater,” Gob said. “It gets really chilly at night.”

With that he got up and left.

* * *

Once Tony finished wiping down the counters and tables, he left the twins in the front of the bakery to go check on how Daniel was doing with the prep.

“Just gotta finish up this last bit of dough and then we’re good to go,” Daniel told him. 

“Cool, cool,” Tony said. He looked around the back. He actually wasn’t in there much; he mostly just worked the counter. But he had a feeling when they were in full Christmas mode he’d be called upon to help with the cookies in the back a lot more. They _were_ his specialty, after all.

They all seemed to have their own specialty. They all grew up baking—even the twins had done some—but it was only when they started to work at the bakery that each of them had discovered something they were just _good_ at. Sure, Angela could make good bread, but hers would never match up to Daniel’s. Tony could bake any kind of cake, but it wouldn’t match Chiara’s or his dad’s. It was just something they all discovered over time.

It was then, as he looked at the family photo his dad had up, that he realized Lizzie wasn’t going to find hers if she went to that geek school.

And it was only then when he remembered that conversation they had. He had been so wrapped up in his talk with Gob and wanting to get back to his best friend and sister that he had forgotten about what another sister had said.

“Lizzie was acting really strange when she left,” Tony said slowly. He needed to talk to _someone_ about it, and while Daniel was, well, _Daniel,_ he was still a somebody. And he had emotional insight into others.

_Sometimes._

Daniel just made a noise that showed he was listening, but didn’t say anything else as he continued kneading the dough.

“She said something about…about how she wanted to be somewhere where she was wanted, since she wasn’t wanted here,” Tony said. He immediately added, “I don’t think she was just being, like, Lizzie melodramatic or anything, either, like I think she really thinks that.”

Daniel looked up at Tony and raised an eyebrow, as if he was saying _duh!_ “Come on, Tony; have you _been_ a member of this family?”

“Okay, why do people keep saying that to me?” 

“Because it’s _obvious_ why she feels that way. She _is_ kinda the black sheep,” Daniel said.

“What?” Tony let out a scoff. Did he not realize that _he_ was the black sheep? The one who didn’t have his own way to stand out in their large family?

Still kneading the dough, Daniel asked, “Who are you closest to in the whole house?”

“Angela,” Tony said automatically. That was an obvious question.

“Right. And Pip? Who’s she closest to?”

“Michael. Duh.”

“Right. And what about Chiara?”

“You. But, I mean, she’s also weird about the twins.” After a beat, he said, “But, yeah, you.”

“Yep. And Lizzie?”

Tony opened his mouth to reply automatically, much like he had before, but then, he didn’t have an answer. Not a real answer. He started to think about what it was like around the house. The twins were basically conjoined and had that telepathic thing going on, basically off in their own little world. Daniel and Chiara worked together in the bakery and, of course, were just so much older and had more history than the rest of them that there was no way any of them could compete with that. And while Tony valued his alone time, he always made time for Angela. He’d been even more purposeful about that ever since he found out she had been so jealous of Lindsay.

But Lizzie…Lizzie was always off doing her homework and reading and doing things outside of the house. Part of Tony thought it was because she thought she was better than everyone else. She was going to get into a great college on a huge scholarship. She was the Smart One. It was part of why he made fun of her for it.

But he had never thought that maybe she was always off on her own because she didn’t have anyone in the house to turn to. While he was left out because he didn't have a label, Lizzie was left out because she didn't have a best friend in the house.

“Oh…”

Tony looked to Daniel who was looking back at him. Once Daniel saw that Tony got it, he nodded and started to cover the dough so it could rise overnight. “It’s why I try to be there for her, you know? I don’t know how much you really remember about when the twins were born, but Chiara obviously went crazy over them. And you and Angela were being, well, you and Angela. So, I kinda ended up watching Lizzie a lot.”

Tony couldn’t remember much from that, no, but it made sense. He mainly just remembered being disappointed that they were _twins,_ which meant they were already bonded together. He had wanted to have a younger brother to push around like Daniel could to him.

“And then after the whole wrist-slicing thing, you know, Lizzie was one of the only people who just treated me like I was normal. Maybe it was just ‘cause she was so young that she didn’t get the big deal, but it was nice. Ma and dad were so _intense_ about it and made me feel like such a freak and Chiara—you know what she’s like. You and Angela were always pushed out of the way to give me space and the twins were barely allowed around me. So having Lizzie just wanting me to read with her and talk and watch her dumb TV shows was nice,” Daniel said with a shrug. "And it kinda just became something we kept on doing."

After a moment, he sighed and looked at Tony. “Really, I don’t think she’s that mad at you. If anything, she’s mad at me for leaving. I feel bad, but I can’t keep living at home anymore. I’m too old for that shit…” Tony nodded; he couldn’t imagine trying to live at home at Daniel’s age. “And I don’t blame her for wanting to get away from everyone. Even if I _was_ still living at home, I wouldn’t blame her. I know what it feels like to think everyone hates you, even if you're wrong." He sighed again. "Then again, there are things that can be done to help her feeling like that, things that don't involve medicine."

He gave Tony a pointed look and Tony said, “Hey! I tease her just as much as everyone does!”

“You’re a bit harsher with her than you are with everyone else,” Daniel said honestly. “But, I get it. You two are the most similar—you’re both super stubborn and ambitious and determined and stuff. Of course you’re gonna get on each other’s nerves.” After a moment, he gave Tony another look. “Just…try to be a little nicer, ‘kay? Another way she’s like you is that she’s a lot more sensitive than she lets on.”

Before Tony could reply, Daniel stored the bowl of dough and said, “Let’s get goin’.”

And with that emotional whiplash, Tony followed Daniel out of the back and turned off the lights as he went.

* * *

Angela sat in the Bluth kitchen, trying to process what had happened in the basement.

Did her hair fall flat? Did she stumble into some bad lighting? What was wrong with her? How could Gob have been interested just a day ago and now, nothing? 

Maybe he really _had_ been cold. She had been, too, so it made sense. He probably wouldn’t perform well in that temperature.  

But why had he been so dismissive instead of taking her somewhere else? Did Lindsay say something to him? She clearly hated her, so that seemed possible. Did he notice how Michael had a huge crush on her and felt like he couldn’t go after her? Maybe, but it wasn’t like he was really crushing on her like he was crushing on Sally Sitwell. There was no way Tony was involved in this anyway, and she couldn’t think of any other reason why he would turn her down so harshly.

…Except for one other reason.

With that thought in mind, Angela went to Gob’s bedroom door and knocked. When he said to come in, she did just that. 

“Oh. Hey.”

“Hi,” she said, smiling apologetically. “…I actually _was_ a little cold and was wondering if I could borrow a sweater. I’d borrow one from Lindsay, but Lindsay’s a _lot_ smaller than me. Particularly…” Angela gestured towards her chest.

Gob couldn’t help but snort. “Yeah, she’s a surfboard, alright…I’ll see what I have.” He got off his bed and looked through his closet and Angela looked around his room. At first she just noticed the clutter: the sheet music, the clothes, the lava lamp, the dying beanbag chair. It was what she expected from a boy’s room.

Then she took in the Queen albums on the wall. There were other bands on there, but Queen was definitely the most prominent. 

But there were posters, too. Nirvana and some other alt bands she had heard of but wasn’t too familiar with. A few movie ones, too. Ones that she liked, like _Dirty Dancing_ and _Cocktail._

…And _Point Break…_

Actually, as she kept looking, she noticed there was a fair amount of Swayze. And Tom Cruise. And that wasn’t much on their own, but combined with the Queen and how uninterested he had been, well, things started to click into place. 

God, she really _was_ the not-rich version of Cher Horowitz, wasn’t she?

Gob handed her a hooded sweatshirt. “Here. Hope this helps.” 

“Thanks.” Angela slipped it on, actually enjoying the warmth it brought her. She was getting way too used to the California climate, apparently, because she really  _had_ been a little cold in the night's breeze.

Angela looked up at him, wanting to ask point blank if he was gay. Her ego wanted proof of that, at least. Proof that only a gay man would turn her down.  

But then she thought about Tony and how, even with all the acceptance everyone had given him, he still had trouble talking about liking guys. She didn’t know what it was like with liking the same sex or anything, but it had to be hard to accept yourself and then say the words out loud without fear. Society couldn't have made that easy for anyone.

And with Gob’s family…yeah, she could see him not wanting to be open and honest, either. They were kind of the worst parts of society as a whole.

So, instead, Angela said, “I should go check on Lindsay’s hair. Make sure it all looks good and nothing fell out.” After a beat, she added, “If you ever want to talk more about _Freddie Mercury…”_ she tried to give Gob a significant look, hoping he got she was sort of speaking in code, “Let me know. I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

She started to head out but she paused at the door. “…Or you could talk to Tony? He’s a lot better versed in the subject than I am.” She gave him a small smile, hoping that she helped, before leaving the room completely.

Once the door closed, Gob stared at it for a while, trying to parse out what she meant.

“…Does she want me to flirt with her brother…?"

* * *

When Angela got back to Lindsay’s room, Lindsay was still in the shower. Angela waited patiently for her to get out, knowing that they should probably talk about the fight they had gotten into.

But it didn’t help that once Lindsay emerged, a towel wrapped around her head, she immediately said, “Oh my god, that’s Gob’s sweatshirt—you _didn’t!”_

“What? No! I was just cold and I borrowed a sweatshirt!” Angela said defensively. “I knew I wouldn’t fit into any of yours because you’re, like, a size negative 2 or something.”

“…Oh.” Lindsay crossed her arms. “…Well…thanks…” She shook her head, “Maybe I shouldn’t thank you for that, I don’t know what my therapist would say…but I’m used to that being a compliment, so thanks.”

Angela gave Lindsay a half-smile. “If any therapist saw how I was acting earlier, I have an idea what they’d be saying.”

Lindsay looked at her curiously. “What would they say?”

“Oh, just the usual thing of girls getting competitive and how I use guys to fuel my self-esteem sort of thing. Not sure if that's true or not, but they'd say it,” Angela said with a shrug. “They’d probably say I have father issues, which is _totally_ not true. I just like sex and I like getting guys to do things for me.”

Despite herself, Lindsay laughed. “Yeah. I miss guys doing things for me. That was kinda all they were good for—carrying books and stuff.”

“Yeah…it’s why I haven’t slept with any guy here.”

“That’s good. You’re worth more than any of the guys I know.” Lindsay looked down at her hands where she nervously held them together, taking a moment to collect herself. She looked back up at Angela and told her, “I’m sorry I said what I said. I…there’s a lot of things I can’t really tell you about when it comes to Gob and then you were yelling and then I was saying awful things…I’m really sorry.”

“…I’m sorry I yelled,” Angela said. God, she hated apologizing. “I just…I don’t mind joking about that stuff, but when someone calls me a slut…it’s the worst thing anyone can call me. I really hate it. And I kinda assumed you were saying that right away, so I just got immediately defensive. So I'm sorry.”

“Yeah…yeah, I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” After a moment, Angela asked, in a complete change of tone, “So, that stuff that you can't tell me when it comes to Gob? Does that include the fact that he's very much gay?"

Lindsay’s eyes widened, “He told you??”

“No, but I kinda put two and two together,” Angela said. 

“Oh…well, I know he’s into guys. I’ve never gotten a straight answer of what level of not-straight he is. I don’t know if he’s bi or gay or what.”

Angela laughed. “He turned me down, so I’m guessing he’s full on gay.”

Lindsay laughed. “Fair point; I can’t think of a straight or guy bi who’d turn you down.”

“Me, neither,” Angela teased as she sat down on Lindsay’s bed. Lindsay joined her and Angela told her to take her hair out of the towel. “It can actually fray your hair strands and cause breakage.”

“Oh, shit,” Lindsay said, immediately pulling her hair out of the towel. 

Angela took her comb out and started to gently detangle Lindsay’s hair, making sure the dye had all been properly washed out. As she worked, she said, “…I just thought that you hated me. And that’s why you didn’t want me to be with your brother.”

“I don’t hate you,” Lindsay said immediately. 

“But you _do_ hate cheerleaders.”

Lindsay paused. “…I kinda hate the institution of cheerleading now. But I don’t hate all of them. And I don’t hate you. I thought _you_ hated _me.”_

“I don’t hate you.” Angela paused before admitting, “…I wasn’t—and I’m still not—used to Tonio having friends that aren’t me.” She laughed softly. “I know it sounds awful of me, but I’ve had to get used to the fact that Tonio’s more than just my prop friend who'll be there whenever I'm free. He gets to have his own life and…I was just jealous of you. Of having to share him.”

“Oh…” Lindsay said softly. As Angela continued to gently work through her hair, Lindsay said, “…Maybe I was kinda jealous of you, too. For befriending all these people I used to have. Having such a warm family. Still having guys wanting to do anything just to impress you—I _do_ miss that part.”

“How could you not?” 

A few minutes later the doorbell rang and Michael must have gotten it, because seconds later, Tony was back in her room. 

“Hey! Did I miss anything big?” he asked.

The two girls looked at each other for a moment before looking back at Tony. 

“Nah. Just hair stuff.”

* * *

Once Angela dried and styled Lindsay’s hair, Lindsay was sure to tell her how much she loved it. Because she _really_ did. “You really _do_ have an art form going here,” Lindsay said. It may have “only” been hair, but it was beautifully colored and in a mosaic of purples and blues at her ends. The colors blended together perfectly, much better than when she had attempted to do her own ends.

“Thanks,” Angela said. “I know I could do better once I’m trained, but ma and dad are gonna make me take a year of college first.” She rolled her eyes at that.

“Cool hair, Linds,” Gob said as he walked to the door frame. “Nice to see you're back, Tony.”

Tony couldn’t stop himself from grinning like an idiot. “Yeah? Thanks. I’m…I’m glad to be back.”

“Yeah,” Gob said, smiling back at him in a way that made Tony smile even more. “I was kinda hoping, now that you're back and all…maybe you’d make those cookies you talked about?”

“The oatmeal raisin ones?”

“Yeah. The best cookies I’ve ever had in my _life.”_

Tony waved a hand dismissively, smiling harder than ever. Angela raised an eyebrow as her brother, her normally broody brother, smiled like an idiot and said, “You’re just saying that.”

“No, it’s true! They’re the best I’ve ever had," Gob insisted. "Will you make some? _Please?”_

Gob even pouted a little which was really not fair to Tony. At all. He didn’t even have to pout to make him do anything; the pout just made him want to do it even more desperately. “Fine,” Tony said. “Let’s make sure you have all the ingredients.”

Gob smiled like a kid and ran down the stairs, Tony following him without a second thought to his sister and best friend. You know, the two people he had been so worried about getting along. Apparently Gob's lack of long term attention span was contagious and had infected Tony.

Said sister turned to said best friend with a grin on her face. “And that would be another reason why you didn’t want me sleeping with Gob?”

“Well…yeah,” Lindsay said, shifting a little. Even with what Tony had told her earlier about how he didn’t talk to Angela about his crushes, Lindsay was nervous she’d be jealous. “You aren’t gonna freak out that Tony hadn’t told you about Gob, are you? Because he technically didn’t tell me; he’s just obvious.”

Angela shook her head. “No. Tony’s always been really private about that stuff. Like, he doesn’t mind people knowing he’s bi, but he can be a bit shy about admitting what guys he likes.” She tilted her head and said, “I just wish he told me ‘cause it would’ve saved me some time. I definitely wouldn’t have tried to go after him if I knew how he felt.”

After another moment, Lindsay added, “I mean, the other reason to not go after him would be you going after Gob would probably hurt Michael, too. He may not be, like, _totally_ in love with you like he is with Sally, but it’d still hurt.” She sighed and added, “Plus, now with me, he won’t go after Sally anymore, so that bridge is permanently burnt…”

Angela frowned. She really didn’t understand what had happened between those two, but she was really curious. How could someone like Sally just betray her supposed friend like that? And how could two people who seemed to have a genuine friendship, based on what Angela had heard, just stop being friends so suddenly?

Before she could ask, however, Lindsay suggested, “Let’s go keep an eye on them. Just in case Gob looks at Tony too long and he strokes out. Someone needs to be there to call 9-1-1.”

Angela laughed in agreement and started to follow Lindsay down the stairs. “Any chance that Gob knows about this crush?” Angela asked curiously. He had to know, right? Tony was so  _obvious._

Lindsay shook her head. “No. Gob’s _super_ oblivious; you need to spell things out for him to get it. And even then you have to use small words that he actually knows how to spell.” She laughed but then shook her head. “Sorry, that was mean. I love the guy, but…he’s so dumb sometimes.” 

“Hey, I get how it is with siblings; only _you_ can say bad things about them like that,” Angela said with a knowing nod.

“Exactly.”

But even after saying that, with how Tony kept grinning at Gob and Michael kept stuttering around Angela and Gob was none the wiser, both Lindsay and Angela shared a look. 

Their brothers were _total_ idiots.

* * *

“So, tell me,” Angela said when she and Tony got home, “did you become best friends with Lindsay first or did you two become best friends because you fell in love with her brother?”

Tony groaned.

“You are seriously _so_ adorable around him! I’ve never seen you like this!”

“Shut up!”

“I won’t, it’s too cute!”

Tony rolled his eyes. "For the record, I was friends with Lindsay first and then I met her brother." He frowned and asked, "You won't tell anyone, right? 'Cause you know ma and dad would stop letting me go over as much if they knew about him and everything."

"Of course I won't tell anyone. Come on; you think I'd rat on you after all the times I've made out with my friends' brothers at sleepovers?" Angela asked with a sigh. "You know me better than that!"

"Right, right, I'm sorry. I just…" Tony rolled his eyes. "I already hate how  _weird_ I get around him; I don't need more things interfering with me just from talking to him." 

"Hey, I think you're doing fine," Angela lied. Tony raised his eyebrows at her doubtfully. He knew she was lying straight to his face. Angela sighed and, in full honesty, told him, “Well, I think you could use some lessons in flirting from Lite-Brite, but you’re on the right track."

Tony shuddered at the thought. He still wasn't over the idea of his oldest sister being a  _flirt_ and  _any_ point in her life. 

* * *

Lizzie was sitting on her bed, looking over her Grove Hills brochure, a contemplative look on her face, as Tony walked into the room. Tony waited until she looked up before saying, “Hey.”

“…Hey.”

Tony asked, “So…how was the school?”

“Great,” Lizzie said all too quickly to be true. “It was just perfect.”

“You hated it, didn’t you?”

Lizzie stared at him, her eyes narrowed. But, after a few moments, she relaxed her face and rolled her eyes. “Yeah…yeah, it kinda sucked,” she said as she looked back down at the brochure.

“So you aren’t going, are you?”

Lizzie didn’t respond.

“You know that you don’t have to go, right?”

Lizzie muttered, “Like you _want_ me to stay.”

Tony sighed. “Lizzie…fine, yeah, I’d love my own room. But you shouldn’t go if it won’t make you happy.”

Lizzie stared at her brochure, not saying anything. 

Tony moved to sit down on Pip’s bed so he could face her. “…You know that Daniel’s gonna be visiting all the time, right?” Lizzie crossed her arms but eventually nodded in response. “And…and I know you and I don’t get along, like, ever. But…but you know I love you, right? And so does everyone here?” Again, it took a while, but Lizzie nodded. “And maybe…maybe I can try being nicer to you. I’m not promising we’ll be best friends or anything—”

“I don’t _want_ to be best friends with you,” Lizzie said, sounding horrified at the thought.

“At least the feeling’s mutual there,” Tony muttered. “But, best friends or not, I’ll try being nicer…and maybe you’ll stop showing off so much?”

Lizzie looked thoughtful, her eyes examining Tony’s face as if she was trying to figure out if he was lying or not. Finally, she nodded and said, “Yeah, I can try. Everyone was showing off over there and it was _really_ annoying.”

“So now you know how it feels, huh?” Tony joked.

“I’m not nearly as bad as them,” Lizzie said with a snort. “…I really _should_ go there for the name recognition—”

“You already skipped a grade and are taking half of your classes an additional grade level ahead. You’re impressive enough, Lizzie,” Tony said honestly. 

And with only the _smallest_ hint of jealousy.

Lizzie sat up taller and smiled proudly. “You’re right. Columbia will be _begging_ for me to attend.”

Tony made a face. “We already have to share a house and high school next year; can’t you choose a different Ivy so we don’t have to share a city in college?”

Lizzie pursed her lips in thought. “…I guess Harvard’s got the better name, anyways.” The two of them shook hands in agreement on being nicer to each other and going to colleges in separate towns. Once their deal was set, Tony left the room and smiled to himself.

And people tried to imply that he didn't know how his family operated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK! This was a monster of a chapter since I kinda wrote myself into a corner with how I left off the last chapter. Whoops! But it's here and I like it (for the most part) and I'm glad to be able to focus on this fic more! I just love that exchange I titled this chapter after, even if it has literally nothing to do with the plot elements I used lol.
> 
> For those of you who've read all of the second piano fic: you guys are fucking CHAMPS. But, anyways, I bring it up because, no, I don't know if the Chiara and twins thing is officially my canon for this family in every verse or not lol. Most everything else is consistent backstory wise in all the verses - Daniel's mental health issues, their personalties, Lizzie skipping a grade, etc. - but that's one I'm not sure on, but I kinda hinted at it here because I like it and, while it probably won't come into play, it's a fun detail to me :)
> 
> I hope you guys liked this chapter and the developments! I know it was a lot but, as I said, I kinda wrote myself into a corner lol. Anyways have a HAPPY 2020! WTF IT'S A NEW FUCKING DECADE IN PARTS OF THE WORLD ALREADY OKAY WOW
> 
> Thanks again for reading and let me know how it was! <3


	6. I Don't Know You Well Enough to Wear My Cape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on "The New Kid" (2x07), "Daria Dance Party" (3x04), and "The Lawndale File" (3x11)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wow. That was the modern equivalent of laying your cape over a puddle of water for me."  
> "Well, I don't know you well enough to wear my cape around you."  
> -Daria Morgendorffer and Tom Sloane, "I Loathe A Parade" (4x06)

Once 1999 hit, Daniel and Chiara moved into their new place. Suddenly, the boys’ room felt a lot more spacious; Tony could barely remember a time when there wasn’t three of them stuffed into one room. While it wasn’t as luxurious as having a room to himself, one less bed suddenly gave them so much space. It sucked that he was still rooming with his baby brother at the age of 17, but Tony still appreciated the space.

Of course, his older siblings leaving meant two things. One thing meant that, after a big, dramatic goodbye—they were seriously only, like, a ten minute drive away, what the hell was the big deal—Daniel “passed on” the responsibility of roasting people to Lizzie.

“I won’t be here as much,” Daniel explained. “So I need you to keep people in line. Especially Tony there.”

“Didn’t you tell me a couple weeks ago to lay off of her? Shouldn’t that go both ways?” Tony pointed out right away.

Daniel ignored him. “Are you ready to take on this sacred duty, Lizzie?” Daniel asked seriously.

Lizzie nodded solemnly. “I will do my best to make you proud.”

 _“Unbelievable,”_ Tony muttered as the two of them shook hands. Of _course_ that was the payment he got for being fucking _nice._

The other big thing was that, with the oldest siblings out of the house and Dan and Giulia looking into a new car, Tony had to take his driving test.

And he failed. Big time. 

“Who cares if I knock over a few cones?” Tony grumbled when Angela took him back home from the DMV.

“The cones represent cars and _people,_ Tonio,” Angela pointed out.

“Like people here can’t afford to fix a few scrapes. That’s what insurance is for!”

"Running someone over is more than a  _scrape."_

When Tony told his parents the news that he still wasn’t legal to drive, Lizzie defended him, weirdly enough. “It’s not his fault,” she said. 

Tony raised his eyebrows. Maybe, even with her “responsibility” to roast him, she was willing to cut him some slack time-to-time. Maybe they could actually get along—or at least be civil.

Lizzie nodded. Then, still looking serious, she said, “After all, it’s got to be hard to drive when you can barely reach the pedals.”

Even his parents laughed at that one before scolding her for being mean.

“Why do I even bother?” Tony asked himself before going back up to his room.

Again, at least there was more space in there now.

* * *

So, with no Chiara to take them and no car for Angela to drive yet, Angela and Tony walked to school on the first day of the semester. It really wasn’t a far walk and Newport Beach was actually the slightest bit crisp in the winter, so it was kinda nice.

At least Tony thought so.

“I can’t believe I have to walk to school for the first day of the new semester,” Angela whined. “I’ll have to find a ride after school.”

“Be careful how you advertise it. I know plenty of guys ready for you to give them a ride.” Angela rolled her eyes at Tony’s joke, but Tony smirked proudly.

“I’m guessing you’ll get a ride from Lindsay…I’m tired, but insert some joke here about how you wish you were getting the ride from Gob,” Angela said.

“That’s just stealing my own joke,” Tony pointed out, even if his face heated up slightly from her comment. Angela hadn’t let up with jokes about how bad Tony had it for Gob since she had discovered it. She had made good on her promise to not tease him about it in front of their family, but that just made her seem to bring it up in, like, every other conversation.

“It’s just so weird seeing you like that. I’ve never seen you have it so bad,” Angela said. It was a sentiment she had kept repeating and insisting on whenever the subject was brought up—which, again, she had been bringing up a _lot._

That was why Tony just rolled his eyes. He had this conversation too much with her. And between all the teasing she did by herself and the teasing she did with Lindsay in their painting class, he was actually relieved they didn’t have classes together in the new quarter.

The teasing also made it clearer that he just needed to get over the crush he had and let it go. And he could _totally_ do that. He had _complete_ control over his feelings.

Or, well, he was going to take control of them, at least. He had been trying to remind himself just how _wrong_ Gob was for him on every front. Gob was energetic and bubbly and optimistic and not the smartest and, sure, he was cute, but looks weren’t everything. And, yes, he was actually a good musician and wrote catchy melodies, but his lyrics were still bad—though, yes, Tony had plans to eventually help him with that. But that was besides the point.

Yes, Tony loved creative types, but, as creative as Gob was, his creative career wasn’t taking off. He was too focused on not “selling out” that sometimes Tony had to wonder if he was actually writing off-putting lyrics on purpose.

He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was going to find a way to get over Gob and just see him as his best friend’s brother. A cute one, but still just his best friend’s brother.

* * *

The first day of school went pretty much as expected. Most of Tony’s classes were the same. His locker was the same. His packed lunch was the same.

It wasn’t until the end of the day that he got a bit of change.

The fact that Balboa High offered a photography class was the best discovery he had when signing up for classes. Photography was one of his favorite art forms. His camera was one of his most prized possessions, enough so that he only brought it out on special occasions. He really couldn’t wait to take more photos and learn about angles and different lenses and learn how to develop his own film. Tony normally didn’t get too excited about classes, and it wasn’t like he was beaming or skipping or whatever it was most people did when they were excited, but he definitely got to that class a bit quicker than everyone else.

It was a small room with a set-up of a few two-person tables. Tony grabbed a spot near the front and took out his notebook. He started doodling in the margins as he waited for class to start and for more students to come in.  

The classroom slowly started to fill up, with most people choosing to sit next to their friends, or at least not by him. Tony was used to it, so he really thought nothing of it. He definitely thought nothing of it when someone finally sat next to him and only because the rest of the other spots were taken. He didn’t even think anything of it with how she gave off an uncomfortable energy as she sat down next to him. In fact, he didn’t even look up at her until she awkwardly said, “Hey.”

Oh. 

Well, _shit._

“…Hey.”

The girl next to him gave him a curious look before holding out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

“…No. We haven’t.” Tony reluctantly shook her hand and said, “Tony Wunderlich.”

Her handshake was firm. Business-like. Practiced. Just like Tony expected.

Or at least what he would've expected if he ever thought they'd officially meet.

“…Sally Sitwell.”

* * *

Tony waited to tell Lindsay about his photography class until they got to her house after school, just in case she freaked out. Which, yes, she did kind of freak out. She got tense and stuff, but the actual freak out had been relatively minimal, since she was still in a state of shock that she was in the class at all.

“…She’s _really_ in _photography?”_ Lindsay asked. She shook her head. “Like, she’s in a freaking _art_ class? That’s so _weird.”_

“I know. It’s _crazy,”_ Tony agreed, even if he didn’t know enough about her to really say it was crazy or not. “But we’re stuck together now, I guess. Bingman made us sign a seating chart.”

After a moment, Lindsay crossed her arms, her jaw tense. “And of _course_ she sat next to you. She knows we’re friends—she’s still _so_ obsessed with me.”

Tony decided not to point out that Lindsay seemed just as obsessed back at her.

“It was the only space still open,” Tony said. “Everyone else was sitting next to their friends already.”

Lindsay sighed. “This is why we need to get you more friends.”

“Hey, you’re in the same boat I am.”

“…Shut up.” Lindsay frowned and shook her head. “God, I wish I had kept taking an art instead. Maybe I would’ve gotten into the class instead of _her.”_

“You _are_ in an art class,” Tony pointed out. “Art History is still an art class.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the _same,”_ Lindsay sighed. 

“But you’re gonna love it, you know. Learning about all those artists you look up to and all the stuff you didn’t get to learn about at all those museums you dragged me to? You’re gonna love it,” Tony pointed out. 

After a moment, Lindsay nodded. “You’re right…I kinda love it already. I never thought I’d say I loved history past DiMartino’s long, angry rants against the school and its students, but I _am_ really looking forward to learning more of this stuff. I just miss doing actual art in school. You know, not counting doodling in math class.” 

“At least you can do whatever you want at home.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She looked around her room as if inspecting it. “I’ll just need to find some big art project to make up for it.”

As she looked at the walls of her room, Tony asked, “Big as in concept or big as in size?”

Lindsay looked thoughtful. “I’m thinking both.” It took a bit of time, but she eventually sighed and admitted in a quiet voice, so quiet Tony almost didn’t hear her, “I also need a distraction from knowing you’re in there with _her."_ Tony started to say something, but Lindsay said, "Everyone falls for her. They all love her. She's  _everyone's_ favorite."

Tony held back a sigh. He knew it was a sensitive subject, but, as he pointed out, “Don’t you remember how the first time we ever talked was when I was shit talking her?” That made Lindsay reluctantly laugh quietly. “Trust me, I’m gonna be taken to the dark side. I was always more of a Luke Skywalker fan than a Darth Vader one—well, actually, I was a Han Solo fan, but, you know, the light side in general.”

Lindsay let out a small laugh. “I know. Angela said that, remember?” She smirked slightly and added, “I was gonna tell you that Gob dressed up as Han Solo a _lot_ for Halloween.”

Speak of the devil, Gob walked by seconds later. “Hey, Linds. Hey, Tony.” 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Tony said, managing not to smile like an idiot, which he was very proud of. It was especially hard since he hadn’t seen him in _weeks_ because of the holidays and his tendency to sleep most of the day away.

“How’s the job search going?” Lindsay asked, happy for the distraction from the subject of Sally.

Tony raised his eyebrows as Gob groaned. “Job search?”

Gob crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame. “Mom said I needed to get a job instead of just ‘laying around the house all day,’” he said disdainfully. 

“She really doesn’t get your creative process, huh?” Tony asked.

 _“Right?”_ Gob said. He sighed again and said, “Plus dad wants to lower my credit limit and I can’t live on less than I do right now.”

Tony had no idea what the Bluth’s credit limit was, but he was pretty sure he could easily survive on half of it and still have money left to spare. The only reason he didn’t let Lindsay buy all of his food or movie tickets or other miscellaneous things like that when they hung out was because he had this dumb pride.

“It’s not going good so far,” Gob continued, answering Lindsay's question. “The idea of working some steady job? It _sucks.”_

“I know,” Lindsay said.

Tony gave Lindsay a look. “You actually _don’t_ know,” he pointed out. “But, yeah, it _does_ suck.”

Lindsay tapped her chin in thought at that. “Any chance you have an opening at Wunder-ful Bread for Gob?”

Gob looked hopeful, hopeful enough that Tony felt bad when he said, “It’s a family business run _purely_ by family; that’s half the schtick of it. Plus, my dad couldn’t afford to pay anymore people now that Lizzie’s taking some shifts, too. Sorry.” 

Also, the idea of having to work alongside Gob made him want to die on the spot. 

Gob sighed. “It’s cool. I’d rather find some sort of performing job, anyway.”

“Doesn’t your band get paid for gigs?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, but it’s split four ways. And half of that ends up going for gas money,” Gob said with a sigh. 

“What about the Hot Cops? Don’t you have friends there?” Lindsay asked.

Gob frowned. “Already tried. I have to wait until July, ‘cause they didn’t buy my fake ID. Apparently you have to be 21 to be a stripper with them ‘cause they perform in so many bars.”

Tony hated himself for making a mental note to get a fake ID if Gob ever ended up joining that group.

You know, just to support his best friend’s brother. As a friend.

* * *

Much like Tony kept trying to tell his family, even with Daniel and Chiara out of the house, they still saw them all the time. In fact, just to make sure they would visit, they had set up a weekly family dinner. It wasn’t like the usual dinners their mother made them do every night, the dinner was Tony got away with one-word answers about his day and would try to read a book during it. These dinners were some big deal thing where they all had to help somehow. So far, Pip normally set the table and Lizzie did the cleaning, but most everyone else did some form of food prep. Mike, despite his age, was almost as good at cooking as Chiara was and would help his sister and mom measure out ingredients. Daniel and Dan would normally work on the dessert together, leaving Angela and Tony to chop up vegetables for the salad and make some other side dish.

Tony would never admit it out loud, but he actually kinda liked the dinners so far. It was creepy sitting at the family dinner table without Chiara and Daniel there, so he liked seeing them around the table again. 

Of course, half the time when Daniel talked, Tony remembered why he was fine with him moving out, but still.

Anyway, during the first family dinner of the semester, Angela announced, “So, the student council decided to do a Spring Fling and I joined the dance committee.”

“That’s wonderful,” Giulia told her while Tony rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t be caught dead at any school dance.

As if reading his thoughts, Angela said, “Tony, you _have_ to come.”

“You should go,” Giulia agreed right away. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“I doubt it,” Tony said. “I’ve never gone to a school dance and I’ve yet to regret it.”

“Maybe not now, but some day,” Giulia said.

Chiara nodded. “Ma’s right, Tony. I still wish I went to my junior prom.”

“Why didn’t you?” Angela asked.

“I was single and just didn’t feel up to it,” Chiara said quickly.

Angela took her word for it. “Yeah, I guess going alone would suck.” After a moment, Angela turned back to Tony and said, “Is that why you don’t want to go? Because you and Lindsay could go—”

“What?” Tony scoffed. “I’m not taking Lindsay on a _date.”_

“I _meant_ as _friends,”_ Angela sighed. “I of all people know you aren’t interested in her like that.” She raised her eyebrows at Tony, giving him a meaningful look, and he quickly nodded in response.

Thankfully, no one questioned if there was any meaning behind that.

“You should go. We need more pictures of you in some tux,” Daniel said.

Lizzie, still holding true to Daniel’s wishes, said, “His bar mitzvah one probably still fits.”

“You know, height jokes are more effective when they come from people taller than you,” Tony told her.

Daniel said, “It was still a good one. And it still bugged you.”

“Plus, I’m a thirteen year old girl; I _should_ be shorter than you,” Lizzie said. Tony just rolled his eyes in response.

“You don’t need a tux, anyways. It’s not a formal or anything. Just, like, a nice shirt and dark jeans would be fine,” Angela said. 

“You don’t even have to dance,” Giulia pointed out.

“Yeah, you can even just make fun of it the whole time,” Angela added.

“I get enough of those opportunities from school itself.”

Before Angela could try to convince him some more, Daniel said, “You know, like Ki, I also regret missing some dances. I _really_ wish I had gone to homecoming my junior year. Everyone said it was epic.” He snorted and added, “Too bad psychiatric hospitals aren’t fond of letting their suicidal patients out for school dances.”

“I wonder why,” Tony said dryly. 

Daniel shrugged. “It’s a mystery.”

“Well, if I went to that dance, I’d probably end up in the psych ward myself,” Tony said. But as soon as he saw his mom’s concerned face, he quickly said, “It was a _joke,_ ma. I’m _not_ suicidal.”

Lizzie nodded, “If anything, he’s _homicidal.”_

Daniel laughed. “The homicidal homo.” Angela nearly snorted water out of her nose.

“Number one, I’m bi,” Tony reminded Daniel as he laughed at his own joke. “And, number two,” he sighed dramatically and, trying to inject emotion into his voice, said, “I can’t believe you’d be so mean to your brother with diagnosed low self-esteem.”

Tony took a victorious bite of his dinner as Daniel and Lizzie were both lectured on being nice to their brother.

Man, why had he ever stopped using that to his advantage? 

* * *

Despite Sally Sitwell being in his photography class, Tony was enjoying it. Even just reading about the art form and all of the technical aspects was interesting enough for him. Once they got to check out the school’s cameras and work on developing their pictures, Tony found it even more enjoyable, even if it meant that, as Sally’s table mate, he ended up having to develop photos with her. And then had to critique her photos and vice versa.

Really, even if he _did_ enjoy her as a human being, Tony would’ve been bored by her photos. They were nothing special; they were simple photos of friends and landscapes. Technically, they were fine. Acceptable. Adequate. But there was definitely no passion or interest in the subject. Yeah, Tony wasn’t good at showing actual interest in something, but he liked to think it showed up in his work. She seemed to just be in the course to get some credit or something.

But Tony dutifully flipped through the photos with her and listened to her short explanations of what they were or why she had taken them. 

“What’s this one?” Tony asked, not bothering to hide his disinterest.

Sally, just as disinterested, said, “It’s the sunrise I saw after my morning run.”

“Ah.” Tony paused before asking, “Does it mean anything?”

Sally thought about it. Sounding about as flat as Tony normally did, Sally said, “It means I had to have another photo for class that day.” 

Okay, that actually made Tony smile for just a half-second. It was a good one. And he hadn’t expected her to be so honest about it.

“Well…nice use of your time,” Tony said diplomatically. He had nothing else to add to that.

“I have to be efficient; I don’t have much time to spare,” Sally said simply. 

“I guess cheerleading keeps you busy,” Tony said. Angela was always busy from it, at least—and not just the “getting busy” kind of busy. Even though the football season was over, the team continued to cheer for basketball and wrestling and were working on some competition pieces.

He _really_ didn’t get why cheerleading competitions existed, by the way, but whatever.

Sally snorted. “That’s just _one_ of the things I do." Tony nodded but didn’t say anything else about it as Sally took her photos back and stored them in her backpack. He handed her his own photos and waited for her to say something.

Honestly, he knew his weren’t anything special, but he had managed to get photos he thought were at least _interesting._ He managed to sneak a few photos of his family making their family dinners, which, yeah, was more sentimental and tender than he intended, but he liked working with getting the perfect angle of the overstuffed kitchen. It also looked kind of destructive and chaotic, which he liked.

The other pictures were a lot less sweet. He got some shots of the school hallways at the end of the school day, where everyone was walking so fast they were all a blur and some seniors were nearly running over freshmen. There were a few shots from one of Gob’s gigs that he and Lindsay went to, but the focus was on the grungy bar versus the performance on the stage, cigarette butts lining the bar and a very drunk individual obviously nearly ready to vomit. And he even managed a shot of a guy face-planting in gym class when trying to dive for a ball in a volleyball game.

He _might’ve_ gotten in trouble for taking that one instead of playing the game.

Tony was sure that, good shots or not, he wasn’t going to get any sort of feedback from Sally. After all, what did she have to say about art? What did she even _know_ about art? She was obviously completely disinterested in the subject.

But, much to his surprise, Sally actually asked him questions. She engaged with him, asking why he chose certain angles and framing. She even laughed at the shots from gym class.

“I really like your photos,” Sally said as she handed them back over.

Tony was surprised but didn’t show it. “Thanks.”

“No, really. They’re great,” Sally said. “I’m not particularly artistically inclined, so I can’t really offer any improvements, but I really liked them.” She shrugged on her messenger bag as the bell rang for the end of class. “They kinda remind me of the paintings of Francisco Goya,” she looked him up and down and said, “which adds up.” 

“…Uh, yeah.”

“Yeah, I know, again, I don’t really know art, but I saw a showing of his work in Madrid and it blew my mind. He’s great, isn’t he?”

Tony blinked a few times. “…Yeah. Yeah, he’s great.” Sally smiled before leaving a very stunned Tony behind. Maybe she knew more about art than he thought.

* * *

“…Have you ever heard of Francisco Goya?” Tony asked Lindsay.

Lindsay looked up from her art history textbook. “Goya? Yeah, of course. We haven’t gotten to him in class yet, but I’ve read about him and I’ve seen some of his work.” 

That didn’t surprise Tony. Lindsay had spent a lot of winter break reading about art and dragging him to museums when she wasn’t working on her own art work. 

“Why d’you ask?” Lindsay asked.

“Oh, someone in class just said my pictures reminded them of his paintings.”

Lindsay tilted her head. “Hmmm…He liked painting death, destruction, brutality…” Lindsay thought about it and decided, “You’d have made good pen pals.”

“Sounds like it.” 

“Who threw out _that_ comparison? I didn’t think anyone at school would know anything about Goya.”

Tony held back a sigh. “…Sally. We had to critique each other’s photos.”

Lindsay’s jaw tensed. “Sally _would_ know about death, destruction, and brutality.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed before he grabbed the remote to Lindsay’s TV and turned it on. Tony loved Lindsay, he really did, but there were only so many rants against Sally Sitwell that he could manage. He got why she was angry with her, but Lindsay herself said she was happier now that she wasn’t a cheerleader. So, really, in an awful way, she had done her a favor.

Thankfully, Lindsay either took the hint that he didn’t want to hear one or just let it go herself. Either way, she went back to looking over her art history reading assignment and Tony got engrossed in the second half of an episode of _The X-Files._

“I don’t get that show,” Lindsay said once it ended.

“I don’t think there’s anything to get. It’s just, like, aliens.”

“Yeah, and I just don’t get the whole alien thing,” Lindsay said. “I mean, if there were aliens smart enough to come here, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to come _here.”_

Tony stared at her. “…Sorry, there goes my trick ear again. What was that?” 

“I mean, like, why would they come _here?_ What do they have to gain from coming to earth that they couldn’t get anywhere else in the galaxy?”

Tony thought about it. “…They probably don’t have Jell-O in space?”

Lindsay snorted. “Exactly. The only reason they’d benefit from us is if it’s some ‘To Serve Man’ from _The Twilight Zone_ situation—you know, the one with the book they brought that they say is called ‘To Serve Man’ and at the end they translate it and the woman yells out, [‘IT’S A COOKBOOK!’](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dk01eeKMD_I)” Lindsay laughed slightly. She liked that show; it was dark and twisted in a fun way. A nice example of using art to spread good messages, too, like peace and tolerance—you know, when it wasn’t about aliens planning on eating humans. She shook her head after a moment and continued, “But, yeah, like, I’d get it if they planned on eating us or something. In which case, we’d all be dead by now if they’re smart enough to travel here, right? So, I don’t really believe in them.”

Tony thought about it. “That’s fair, but when you look at the food industry today, it _does_ seem intent on fattening us up—” He looked over to Lindsay, realizing a second too late that maybe talking about fattening foods wasn’t a good thing to discuss with a recovering bulimic. “…Sorry.”

Lindsay shrugged to show that she was fine. “You have a point, I guess. Maybe they have some mind-controlling powers or something.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s a remote thing so they don’t have to actually come down here,” Tony suggested. 

“…So we’d both be right; they aren’t down here, but they have neck implants or something to control the masses.”

“Exactly.”

Lindsay thought further on it. “Maybe…but you’d think if they had that, they’d stop wars. Especially if they want to eat us. What do they benefit from if we’re all fighting each other and killing our planet? What does destruction and chaos bring them?”

Tony shrugged. “Maybe they’d be good friends with Goya, too.”

Lindsay let out a soft air of laughter. “Maybe.”

It was then that Tony noticed the sound of an acoustic guitar. That wasn’t strange in and of itself; Gob would practice in his room sometimes. But what was weird was how _cheery_ it sounded. Gob didn’t write _cheery_ music. As optimistic as he could be, his music seemed to always show his dark side, his grungier side. He tried for a harder rock sound, like early Queen. This sounded almost downright _well-adjusted._  

Tony asked, “Is it just me, or does Gob’s music sound decidedly less Goya-y than usual?” 

“It’s not just you,” Lindsay said, though she looked like she hated having to admit it. “He’s been playing music like this for a couple days now.”

Gob hit a particularly bright chord and Tony made a face. _Gross._

“Maybe it’s a love song?” Tony theorized. 

“Yeah, maybe he’s in love with you,” Lindsay suggested.

Tony allowed himself the briefest of fantasies of that being true before snapping out of it as the song finally stopped. 

Thank _god._  

“I’d rather hear another round of ‘Paingasm’ if that were the case than whatever _that’s_ supposed to be.”

Lindsay laughed, but then the jaunty tune started up again and she frowned. “God, that’s disturbing.” 

Tony suggested, “Could be aliens trying to torture us.”

Lindsay considered it. “Maybe I should check his neck for implants.”

Tony nodded. But, hey, at least that song was making Gob less attractive to him by the second.

* * *

Okay, Tony was starting to believe the whole aliens thing could actually be accurate, because things were getting weirder and weirder. Gob’s music was becoming somehow even _cheerier,_ but he denied that it was any different than his usual sound and would leave the conversation whenever it was brought up. That customer at the bakery, David, had become Chiara’s true blue _boyfriend,_ one that she was apparently going to bring by to a family dinner at some point.

But, weirdest of all, was that Tony was finding out that Sally Sitwell wasn’t actually that awful. In fact, she was actually kinda… _cool?_

Tony never would’ve believed that was possible. Sally always wore a sweet smile around school. She was voluntarily a cheerleader. She was _interested_ in **_Michael._ ** Nothing from that list sounded like a person he wanted to know or a person he’d actually enjoy talking to.

But she was a lot different than she seemed on the surface. Her smile was sweet, but she also had a sharp tongue that had caught Tony off guard enough that he had actually smiled and, after a particularly sharp comment about a classmate’s dumb question, laughed out loud. She was a cheerleader, but she, unlike several of the others, only wore her uniform on game days. And she _had_ been interested in Michael, but that infatuation seemed to be over, seeing as Tony saw her purposefully walk past him quite often.

“You know, I really can’t believe you’re a cheerleader,” Tony told her during one of their assigned dark room sessions. It was kinda nice being away from the other students as they worked on developing their photos.

“I’m only on it because we don’t have a gymnastics team and our dance team is a joke,” Sally said simply. “Colleges also like people with school spirit and people with multiple after-school activities. It adds yet another tally to my long list of extracurriculars.” 

Finally, after weeks of her mentioning how busy she was, Tony took the bait and asked, “How many of those do you have?”

“Honestly, it’d be easier to list what I _don’t_ do.” Still, Sally counted off on her fingers, “I do cheerleading in both fall and spring semesters; I’m part of the country club’s winning tennis team; I’m the founding member of the school’s Young Democrats club and help lead canvassing projects during elections; junior class president of student council; I’m a debate team champion; I volunteer at the local soup kitchen; I’m also Big Sister mentor at the Y for underprivileged youth; I play the flute in symphonic band, which is a class but _does_ have concerts outside of school hours, so it counts; I’m head of the French club; I was just inducted into National Honors Society, since you can’t join until you’re a junior; and I work at my dad’s company over summer vacations.” 

 _“Jesus,”_ Tony said. He didn’t know how she was still breathing with all of that plus AP classes.

“Oh, and I’m co-editor-in-chief of the yearbook,” Sally added. “I was going to be the plain editor-in-chief, but Susan Blake threw a hissy fit because she’s a senior and felt that meant she deserved the title.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yearbook’s the only reason why I’m even in this class,” she continued. “We don’t have any photographers at the moment, and while we have some professional ones at some of the bigger events, we need _someone_ to take more photos of the remaining school activities. With this class, I get access to a camera for this quarter and permission to check one out next quarter, too. That way I can take some photos and also have access to editing software next semester when we’re putting everything together for the final print.” She sighed heavily. “Not that _I_ have the time to get all those photos, either.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Tony said honestly.

“But if I don’t do it, who will?” Sally sighed again as she looked at one of the photos Tony had hung up to dry.

Tony shrugged. He didn’t know who else was even on the yearbook staff.

But, after a moment, Sally looked up from his photos and said, “Actually, I really think _you’d_ be great for it.”

Tony literally laughed out loud. “Good one.”

“No, I’m serious,” Sally said. Tony looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Your photos are _great._ And you have a way of capturing little moments that other people would miss. Like that one of your sister and little brother cooking. Remember that?” 

Of course Tony did; it was one he was actually kind of proud of. It was just another photo of his family preparing dinner together, but he had managed to get a shot of Chiara showing Mike how to properly dice a carrot. It was a simple moment, a sweet one, but it was amongst a lot of chaos. Angela and Lizzie were arguing over who was doing what and Dan was trying to quiet them down while Giulia was attempting to catch Pip, who was running around the kitchen on a sugar high Daniel had caused and was laughing about. So, managing to get the focus on Chiara and Mike was quite a feat. Not to sound like an optimist or something disgusting like that, but he liked the little moments of, like, _nice_ things that happened even when the world was chaotic and destructive.

Goya would probably be disappointed in that, though. 

“You’re pretty good at this. You see things other people don’t see. Honest things.”

Tony blinked a couple of times, unsure what to say. Finally, he decided on, “I can do honest. It’s what I do. I look around me, I take pictures of what I see.”

“Yeah, and we could use someone as observant as you on yearbook.” Tony snorted and Sally continued, “Come on! What do you have on your college applications right now? Like, what makes you stand out?”

“…I have good grades in all AP and honors classes,” Tony started out. “And good SAT and ACT scores. I’m well-read. And I take art as well as hard math classes, so I guess I’m well-rounded academically.”

“Any extracurriculars?”

Tony paused before saying, “I work at my dad’s bakery, and have been since I was thirteen—though back then it was called ‘volunteering’ because it wasn’t really legal—”

“And that’s it?” Sally asked. Tony nodded and she said, “Yeah, colleges need more than that. And yearbook? That’s a _great_ one.”

Tony sighed. “Look, Sally, I could never join the yearbook team. _Ever._ I wouldn’t even own one if my parents didn’t make me get them. They go against everything I stand for.”

“In what way?”

“I like learning and reading and all of that, but school is _terrible._ And yearbooks paint this false picture that any school is not only tolerable, but something we should _enjoy._ It’s full of pictures of things we’re told people enjoy—football games and clubs and activities and dances—and do people really enjoy _any_ of that? The only people who do are the ones who peak in high school. Maybe there are a few exemptions, but, like, just look at _you,”_ Tony ranted. 

Sally raised her eyebrow. “What about me?” 

“You don’t enjoy the stuff yearbooks celebrate. You even admitted that you don’t care about cheerleading past your college résumé. And everyone portrays cheerleading as the best high school experience possible. All the stuff you do here, from NHS to Young Democrats, is to get into a good college, which you don’t even _need,_ seeing as you were born into a business legacy you get to take over once you graduate.”

Sally crossed her arms and Tony almost felt bad for what he said. It wasn’t like it was _her_ fault that she had money and a guaranteed future. But it was the truth. She had listed off her activities so easily and with so little enthusiasm that Tony knew he was right about how she felt about them.

After a long silence, she said, “Maybe I don’t enjoy everything I do. And maybe this is all stupid to you. Maybe it _is_ all stupid.” Sally raised a shoulder in a shrug. “But maybe having you on our team would make us able to show the real world of high school. The things people refuse to take pictures of. The things you notice that everyone else just glosses over—the stoners in the corner of the dances, the small moments between the homecoming Queen and King, the small hints of pain hidden underneath a cheerleader’s smile.” Tony raised an eyebrow at that and Sally looked down at her lap. “I was just trying to be poetic. I know it sounded pathetic.”

After another moment, she added, “…But maybe you would’ve noticed what Lindsay was going through if you were here. And that could've been a good thing.”

Tony crossed his arms as well. It was the first time either of them had mentioned Lindsay to the other. “What do you mean?” Tony asked, his voice quiet and controlled but with a small edge to it. “You mean you would’ve wanted her secret struggles out in some yearbook photo before you blabbed them yourself?”

Sally took a deep breath, her jaw slightly tense. “No. I mean that you observe things that others don’t, meaning that if you had met her earlier, maybe you could’ve stopped her before things started to get worse.” 

Tony couldn’t help but raise snort. “Like you really care.”

Sally’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t know what Lindsay’s told you about what happened between us over the years, but there are two sides to every story.”

“And you had a good reason for betraying her trust?” Tony asked. 

“Believe it or not, I _did.”_ Tony scoffed and Sally ranted, “I had tried to tell her that the cheerleading team was bad for her. Obviously her mom was the biggest cause of all of her body image issues, but she used cheerleading as a way to justify everything her mom said. I tried telling her that someone that was as tall as her shouldn’t weigh so little that they could be on the top of the pyramid. I tried telling her that she didn’t need to be in a smaller uniform to look good. I tried to get her to get help. Many, _many_ times. It was clear having to repeat the self esteem course wasn’t making her any better, but every time I tried to talk to her, she refused to listen to me. And, eventually, cheerleading became, like, the only focus of her life. Like, all she cared about was becoming captain. All she did was think about getting there, like it would prove something—I don’t know _what,_ but it was just more important to her than eating.”

Tony’s face remained impassive, unmoved. He couldn’t believe that Sally was really worried. How could she claim to care when she had dropped Lindsay like she was nothing and hadn’t talked to her since?

But Sally continued, “If she got cheer captain, she would’ve thrown herself into it even more and lost herself…she already wasn’t being her true self by then. So, telling our coach was the only way I could get her to stop cheerleading and start focusing on herself and what she actually likes. And she seems happier now, doesn’t she?”

She cleared her throat and was quiet as she said, “…I mean, I _think_ she’s happier now. She won’t speak to me, so I don’t know, but she seems happier with you then…then she ever was when she was ‘one of us.’” After a moment, she quietly added, “Happier than she ever was with me.”

Tony stared at her. Finally, he answered her last question. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s happy.”

“…Good.”

They fell into a silence and Tony went over what she said. He didn’t believe her—he _couldn’t_ believe her. She was just saying things. She just wanted to be seen as good. There was no way that Sally was being honest.

Eventually, he said, “I know you wanted that captain title.”

Sally gave him a sad, quiet chuckle in response. “Well, yeah. Maybe I did. I know having a winning team under my lead on my résumé would look good. So, yeah, I care about that as well. And I’m not saying what I did was right or that Lindsay has any reason to forgive me. But at least I did something. No one else seemed to notice or care.”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t believe that you were really doing it for her own well-being.”

“It’s a free country; believe what you want.” After a moment, she softly added, “And I know you won’t believe this, either…I really _do_ miss her.”

* * *

Tony had tried to forget his discussion with Sally. He really had. But it kept sticking out, like it was hijacking his brain. Like a moth to a flame. Like a song that wouldn’t leave his head. Like that song Gob was working on.

“Is it getting cheerier or am I just getting more miserable?” Lindsay asked.

“It’s verging on bouncy, alright,” Tony agreed. Lindsay winced and closed her bedroom door. She normally kept it semi-open so Gob could stop by, but closing it helped muffle some of that sound.

“Ugh,” Lindsay said in disgust. “I like a good pop song as much as the next person, but something about that is just so… _wrong.”_

“I get you. It’s an eery kind of cheerfulness. And it’s totally not like him.” Tony asked, “Have you checked for neck implants or anything yet?”

“Nothing there. Not even a hickey, which is _also_ totally unlike him,” Lindsay added. She paused with a concerned look. “I’m honestly a little worried. Like, maybe he needs help—psychological help.”

Like the kind Lindsay was getting. 

…Allegedly all because Sally was trying to help her.

“Right…”

Changing subjects completely, Lindsay said, “But I guess all artists probably ened that. Art history is making it clear to me just how, like, _every_ artist was completely crazy. They _all_ could’ve used therapy. Kinda makes me feel better about needing it myself.”

“Right…” 

“Some of it’s so _tragic,_ too. Like, we’ve gotten into more recent artists and Pollock? Poor guy. He died _way_ too soon.” She sighed, “I love his stuff. I was thinking of experimenting with abstract art because of him—Ms. Defoe might let me do a special independent study to do it! But this idea I have needs a lot more space…”

“Right…”

Lindsay finally noticed that something was up with Tony, seeing how he was staring in front of him and clearly not listening. “You okay, Wunderlich?”

Tony jerked out of his thoughts. “What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just…” After a moment, he said, “Can I ask you something? And you’ll be honest with me?”

“Sure.”

He was quiet for a moment as he tried to think of the best way to ask his question. “…Did Sally ever talk to you about the bulimic thing before she told the cheer coach?”

Lindsay, like she always did when the subject of Sally came up, tensed. She looked off to the side, obviously not wanting to talk about it. Tony was sure she was just about to say as much, so he said, “I just want to understand what all went down between you two. You’ve only told me about that and…and I believe that all happened. But you guys _were_ friends, at least at _some_ point. Did…did something happen between then and the cheer thing?”

 _“Tony…”_ Lindsay sighed. “I…you _know_ that talking about this—”

“I know it’s hard for you. But maybe it’d be good to talk about it,” Tony said. “And, come on, as your best friend, shouldn’t I at least know what your former best friend did?"

Lindsay looked down at her feet and then back up at Tony. She nodded silently and sat down on her bed; she might as well be comfortable as she brought all of this up.

“…Sally and I were best friends, like, our whole lives,” Lindsay said. “I swear I even have the vaguest memories of being at her house back when she was a baby.” She laughed slightly at that, since there was no way that was true.

“Anyway, we did _everything_ together. All the things best girlfriends do. We gossiped, did each other’s hair, and all the other usual sleepover activities girls do, of course. _All_ of them.”

What did _that_ mean? It wasn’t like he had ever been to a girls’ sleepover, unless you counted when his sisters had girls over. And he never participated in those, even Angela’s.

Before he could ask, she continued, “We were always there for each other. Yeah, we’d get a bit competitive sometimes. Like, we had this competition once over who could get the most guys’ numbers at one of Gob’s parties our freshman year. I _totally_ won that.” Lindsay looked proud of herself as she remembered that, actually smiling. “There was student council, which she obviously won. Which, whatever, I wouldn’t want to be on that anyways. And we competed over homecoming royalty that year, to be the freshman representative, and both of us lost to this girl who people voted for just ‘cause she had cancer.” Lindsay rolled her eyes slightly at that. 

“But, yeah, despite how competitive we were, we still understood each other. We were from the same world. It made sense. _We_ made sense.”

After a sigh, she said, “You actually remind me of her. The _real_ her. The one she hides behind her perfect smile and high pony. She’s cynical and sarcastic. She can be really funny…she’s still a lot nicer than you and still more optimistic, but she’s not the sweet girl next door everyone makes her out to be—in both a good and bad way.”

Lindsay cleared her throat. “Anyway, like I was saying, we were best friends. Then one day we just…we weren’t.” 

Tony waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t say anything else. “What do you mean?” Tony asked.

“I mean that we just stopped being close,” Lindsay said. “I…I don’t know what happened, but the sleepovers stopped. The smiles we would exchange at school became less sincere. She started flirting with Michael—started smiling at him more than she did at me…Something just _bugged_ me about all of that and I don’t know why. It just seemed to come out of nowhere on her part. Like, Michael had clearly been into her, but she always seemed to ignore him.” Lindsay frowned. “I think I was just worried she was using Michael or something. Like, why else would I care if she flirted with him? I mean, I let you do that with Gob!”

“I don’t _flirt—”_

“Anyway,” Lindsay sighed and continued, “we just…we weren’t best friends anymore. We were friendly. We’d hang out sometimes. But…but I don’t know if I pushed _her_ away or if she pushed _me_ away first. Maybe we both did it at the same time. I just know that seeing her flirt with my brother over hanging out with me made me want to spend less time with her. I didn’t want to be some third wheel to the person who was _supposed_ to be my best friend and my _twin…”_ She bit her lip for a moment before adding, “It actually made me resent Michael, too. It hasn’t been until recently that I’ve been able to talk to him like I used to. It just felt like he had chosen her over me. I had no twin, no best friend, and…and I didn’t really know if the other cheerleaders saw me as a friend. And…and I just felt really alone…”

She smiled ruefully. “I’ve talked about it a bit with my therapist. She helped me realize that maybe, while my mom and other factors led to my…my eating disorder developing, how isolated I felt made me push myself even more. I think I thought getting thinner would make me better to everyone—my mom, the squad, the school. Maybe Sally, too, I guess.” 

After a pause, Lindsay quietly said, “To answer your question, yes, she had tried talking to me about it before. And she told me that the cheerleading team wasn’t good for me. But this was after she had already pushed me away. Why was I going to believe her? If she was worried about me, why did she stop hanging out with me? And, _god,_ she even tried telling me that she told the coach because of that, because I wasn’t approaching it ‘healthily’ or whatever, but…but I still can’t think of a worse thing for her to have done. To…to take my secret and take away something I had _earned._ I knew she was competitive and could be worse than I could, but to take away the one title I had when she has _so many_ things that make her the perfect person she is, I…I could’ve had at least _one_ thing.”

Lindsay shook her head, looking torn between anger and tears. Tony definitely wasn’t equipped to help with the latter and he really didn’t want to deal with more of the former either. And he definitely needed some time himself to process everything he had learned from both Sally and Lindsay about their past friendship.

So, Tony said, “Thank you for telling me that.”

After a long moment, Lindsay nodded. “Yeah…well, you were right. You deserved to know.” She took a deep breath and admitted, “It was kind of good talking about it.” 

“I bet.”

“…I actually really miss her,” Lindsay said. She quickly added, “Not because I feel lonely anymore. Like, that’s why I _used_ to miss her. But you’re an even better friend in a lot of ways. It’s just…there was something there only she could give, you know? As a girl, I mean.” 

“I get it,” Tony said. He was sure if he actually had male friends he’d get it even more, but he understood the theory. 

Lindsay nodded in response. 

Though Tony wasn’t sure it was the right response, he ended up saying, “She misses you, too.” Lindsay looked over at him with a raised eyebrow, and he said, “We…we were talking in photography. And she brought up the subject and said that she missed you and…yeah.”

Lindsay snorted. “Well, she owes me a lot more than telling my best friend that if she wants to be back in my good graces.”

“That’s fair,” Tony said.

They were both silent after that, neither of them sure what to say anymore. Tony definitely had a lot to think about, and even Lindsay was thrown for a loop over hearing that Sally actually missed her. She had never seemed to once sophomore year hit. 

Their silence was only interrupted by the sound of Gob playing that weird, chipper song even louder than before as he hummed out a melody.

“Oh my _god_ if those aliens don’t kill me soon, I’m gonna do it myself,” Lindsay declared.

* * *

The next time Lindsay and Tony hung out, they went to Tony’s place. It was necessary given how Gob was still working on that awful song.

“I wish you guys had more art supplies,” Lindsay sighed as they got to Tony and Mike’s room.

“At least we don’t have someone taken over by aliens,” Tony pointed out.

“Exactly,” Lindsay agreed as they sat down on Tony’s bed. “God, it’s gonna be a depressing day when that baby alien bursts out of his chest.”

Just then, Angela came in with a big, bright smile. “Lindsay! I _thought_ I heard you! I’m so glad I was right!” She smiled even wider as she stood in front of her. “How are you doing? You’re looking _good!”_

Lindsay and Tony shared a look. Yes, Angela and Lindsay had been getting along better since that weekend at Lindsay’s place, but it wasn’t like _that._

“…Angela, can I check your neck?” Tony asked, standing up to reach for the neckline of her shirt while Lindsay bit back a laugh.

“Tony? What— _stop!”_ Angela said, pulling her head back and smacking his hand away. She groaned and rolled her eyes, knowing they obviously saw through her over-friendly greeting. “Okay, fine, I know that was really fake but…it’s because I need to ask for a favor.”

“Yeah?” Lindsay asked.

Angela sighed. “Okay. So, I signed up to help plan the spring dance, right? Because to volunteer is to say ‘I care’ or whatever—Mr. O’Neil said that and I thought it’d be fun, right? I like dances. But then, like, the _whole_ team has flaked on me and I have _no one_ helping me. So, now all I have is a DJ and my dad agreed to make cupcakes at a _very_ reduced rate, which were _supposed_ to be the only two things I had to worry about getting. But now I have _no one_ to help with decorations or design and I was hoping you would use your discerning, artistic vision to help me make the gym into the spring fling we deserve.”

Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “And you’re asking me over literally anyone else?”

Angela rolled her eyes. “None of the cheerleaders will help, since they want to spend the whole day getting ready, even though it’s not even a formal. And you know Tony won’t help; he doesn’t do dances.”

“Tony’s not into dances? That’s _shocking,”_ Lindsay said dryly as she looked over at Tony.

“I know. I’m a regular old Homecoming King type,” Tony replied just as dryly. He turned to his sister and asked, “And will you actually be helping with the decorations or are you just getting Lindsay to play Cinderella while you get ready for the ball?”

Lindsay looked back at Angela with a raised eyebrow, curious about her answer as well. Angela hesitated before admitting, “…The girls need my help with their hair, okay? I refuse to let them go with the crimping styles they’re longing to do!” Tony snorted and Angela said, “Hey, it’s a _crime_ against fashion, okay? There’s supposed to be a photographer there and I don’t want them to have to see that in their yearbook in ten years and regret it!” After a moment, she corrected herself, “Or, well, there was _supposed_ to be a photographer there. I don’t think Claudia arranged for one of the yearbook kids to do it.”

“Yearbook doesn’t have photographers right now,” Tony said simply. Both Lindsay and Angela looked at him in confusion and he said, “What? My photography teacher said that.” 

And that actually wasn’t a lie. Their teacher had been trying to convince people to join the yearbook team, since he helped run it. He had even specifically asked Tony, which he wasn’t sure was his own idea or was something Sally managed to convince him to do.

Angela sighed. “Well, I still don’t need them having crimped hair in their own personal photos.” After yet another moment, she added, “And I figured I could get my own pictures. Because once my one year mandatory college experience is over, I can use pictures of the good hairstyles I gave them as ways to boost my beauty school application…there has to be something like a portfolio element, right?” Angela shrugged; she knew she wanted to do beauty school, but she still hadn’t looked into the application process for it.

“I don’t know,” Lindsay said with a shrug. She had no interest in beauty school, but the word “portfolio” made her think of how she’d need one for art school. You know, if she chose to do that. Not that she even knew what she’d want to put in one.

Angela turned back to Lindsay, “So? Will you help? Knowing your work, I'm sure you'll do _amazing_ decorations.”

And it could help boost up any portfolio she ended up making.

"And you can seriously do _whatever_ you want with the whole gym."

And the gym had a _lot_ of space she could decorate…

Lindsay looked over to Angela again. “…How much money is left?”

“We had a budget of about a thousand for the whole thing—”

“I’ll do it.”

Tony and Angela exclaimed at the same time, _“Really?”_

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll totally do it,” Lindsay said, an odd look on her face, like her mind was coming up with several ideas while she was smiling ever so slightly.

“Oh my _god,”_ Angela squealed, her New York accent coming out stronger than usual with her excitement. “Thank you thank you _thank you!_ You’re a _total_ lifesaver! I’ll get you the money, like, ASAP, okay?” 

Angela left excitedly after that and Tony turned to Lindsay, who still had that mischievous look on her face. 

“This has nothing to do with that big art piece you want to do, is it?”

Lindsay gave Tony a grin and said, “A thousand dollars plus my own money can buy a lot of paint to cover that whole gym.”

Tony pointed out, “Some of that money has to go to the cupcakes and the DJ. And the punch. And you have to hire a photographer”

Lindsay sighed and whined, “Do I _have_ to?”

“Well, maybe not one to do like portraits because it isn’t a formal, but they’ll want _someone_ to take photos. At least for yearbook and stuff,” Tony said simply. He pulled out his photography textbook to start reading over one of their assignments. 

Lindsay’s eyes looked to the cover of the textbook, which featured the image of a camera on it. Then she looked over at Tony, a grin growing on her face. “…Do I _really_ have to hire one?” She smiled pointedly at Tony, who slowly looked up at her as he realized what that tone of voice was implying. 

“Yes,” Tony said sharply. “Yes, you do. Because I’m not going.”

“But think of all the destruction and brutality you could get pictures of!” Lindsay insisted. “All the mating rituals of our classmates. The reactions to my art. The crimped hair!”

“No.”

“Think of all the blackmail you could get on your sister!”

Okay, that was slightly tempting. He loved Angie, but he could always use something to buy her silence. Still, Tony insisted, _“No.”_

Finally, Lindsay argued, “Think of the bribe your parents will give you if you agree to go.”

That finally made Tony pause. His parents _did_ want him to go _so_ badly. His mom had already hinted that she’d take him shopping for a new outfit if he wanted to—which, ew, he was _not_ going to do with his _mother,_ thank you very much. But maybe he could get the money she’d spent on an outfit on something else. Like a video game. Or more camera film. Or literally anything else.

Tony slowly started to smile. Okay, maybe he could break his not going to dance rules just this once.

* * *

 _“Ma!”_ Tony groaned.

“Shh! Just let me get a few more—”

“Oh my god, ma, if you take one more picture, I’m not going,” Tony told her firmly. 

“Aw, come on, Tony. She needs evidence that you’re actually leaving the house,” Lizzie said. 

Tony rolled his eyes, even if he could admit it was a good one. “Shut up.”

Thankfully, before his mom could take anymore pictures or Lizzie could insult him any further, Chiara and Daniel pulled into the driveway. They were going to drive him to the dance (the whole him not having a license thing kinda put a damper on things) and set up the cupcakes Angela had ordered. 

“See you later!” Tony told his mom before heading out of the house and closing the door behind him. He did one last check of his camera bag to make sure he had everything he needed before getting into the car.

“I can’t believe you’re going to your first dance!” Chiara said excitedly as she started the drive to school. 

“Me, neither,” Daniel said. He looked at Tony curiously and asked, “How much did ma and dad pay you?”

“Twenty bucks and an extended curfew,” Tony said. It wasn’t as much as he would’ve liked, but at least it was something. 

Once they got to the school, Tony grabbed a stack of cupcake boxes and led Chiara and Daniel to the gym. Lindsay had been there all day, but he couldn’t imagine _why._ It wasn’t like there was much even an artist of her level could do to make the gym look different or special.

But Tony had to eat his words when he walked into the gym.

Paint splattered the walls, from dark reds and blacks to whites and greens, blurred together in an abstract fashion. On one side of the gym, where the DJ equipment was set up, there were two large hands sticking out of the wall and holding a steering wheel. And, to really bring the point across, Lindsay had managed to drape a banner that said “Balboa High Tribute to Jackson Pollock Dance”.

Tony had a feeling that wasn’t what they had decided to call the Spring Fling officially.

He put the boxes of cupcakes on the refreshment table. After a few more moments, he pulled out his camera and got a picture of the whole set-up.

“What do you think?”

Tony turned around to find Lindsay, a cup of coffee in one hand and a paintbrush behind one of her ears, a few splatters of paint on her neck and shirt. She looked exhausted, since she had to have arrived at the crack of dawn to do _that._ It had to have been early, seeing as she wasn’t even wearing make-up; that was the only time he ever saw her go make-up free outside of her house.

“It’s great,” Tony said honestly. “Not sure it’ll win you any favors with our fellow students, but it looks amazing.”

“Thanks,” Lindsay said. “Hopefully your sister doesn’t kill me.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s her own fault for not giving you any supervision.”

“I’m counting on you to tell her that when she gets here,” Lindsay said. 

“Was this all you, Lindsay?” Chiara asked from where she had finished setting up the first round of cupcakes.

“Well, I got my brothers to help with hanging the banner, but, yeah. Everything else was me.”

“Wow. That’s really impressive.”

Daniel nodded, but couldn’t stop himself from adding, “No wonder you and Tony get along so well. You don't look it, but you’re just as twisted as him.”

Lindsay smiled and took it as a compliment. “Thank you.” 

Soon after the oldest Wunderlichs left, Lindsay looked at her watch and sighed. “I need to do a final touch-up on the steering wheel, then I need to change and everything…”

With that, Lindsay walked over to the collision and Tony continued to walk around and get a few more close-up pictures of the art piece. After a few moments, Tony turned to Lindsay as she looked over her work. A proud smile crossed her still make-up free face, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail with a few more drops of paint on her clothes. It really looked like Lindsay in her real habitat, the Lindsay that he had grown so close to over the past school year.

Tony, well aware Lindsay wasn’t paying attention to him, took a picture of the Lindsay very few people got to see.

_Click!_

* * *

“See how his hands grip the steering wheel, like he still thinks he could drive his way out of it?”

“Yeah. Maybe he could if his arms were attached.”

Tony turned to Lindsay as he heard the most recent amount of praise she had gotten that night. People had been raving the whole evening, which was actually surprising to him. Not because she didn’t deserve it, but because he was sure that no one at their school would like something so artistic. 

“I hate to tell you this, but your conceptual piece is a big hit,” Tony told her.

“You couldn’t just let me enjoy the moment, could you?” Lindsay said, a slight smirk on her lips. There was something strange about being the talk of the school again, even if people didn’t realize she was the one who had done the piece in the first place. It was like being a cheerleader again, but so much better. Instead of talking about her body or smile, they were talking about her abilities. It was a nice change.

A few minutes after that, Angela came over. Much like Lindsay predicted, she seemed less than pleased over what she had done to decorate the gym.

“Lindsay?” Angela painted on a smile because they were trying to be friends or whatever, and asked, “…What the fuck is this?”

Tony supplied, “I think dances are about being young, carefree, having your whole life ahead of you, and dancing the night away.”

Lindsay nodded. “Right. That’s what this is about.” She had a sip of punch before adding, “And the untimely death of Jackson Pollock.”

“Fantastic. It _really_ says ‘spring fling’,” Angela said crossly. 

“Eh. I guess you’re right. This is more of a back-to-school dance vibe, since he died in August,” Lindsay said thoughtfully.

Angela’s jaw tightened slightly and Tony said, “Hey, people are really loving the decorations, Ange. Lighten up and go dance with whichever boy you narrowed it down to.”

Angela couldn’t help but smirk slightly. “Come on, Tonio; you know I could never narrow it down to just _one_ for a non-formal dance. I’m here with Cory _and_ Jake.”

“Hopefully one of them has an extra-large backseat, then,” Tony replied. 

“Hmm…one could only hope,” Angela said wistfully. She looked over at the car crash figure and then around the gym. Everyone _did_ seem to be having a good time. “…Thanks for providing your artistic skills, Lindsay,” Angela finally said diplomatically.

“You’re welcome.” 

“And thank you for taking photos, Tonio,” Angela added. She looked him over with a smile and said, “Still can’t believe you actually came to one of these. You’re growing up right in front of me—”

“Oh, shut up,” Tony said, dodging her hand as she tried to pinch his cheek. She laughed and, after a brief goodbye, she went back to find her dates.

“Is this _seriously_ your first dance?” Lindsay asked. Tony raised an eyebrow and she said, “Okay, yeah, that was a stupid question.”

Not long after that, Ms. Defoe, as one of the chaperones, swooped in. “Lindsay! When you told me you had a big idea of the spring dance, I had no idea you had _this_ in mind.”

“I don’t think my sister did, either,” Tony said.

Lindsay grinned and shrugged. “I had been saying I just needed a larger project to help make-up for not having a visual art class this quarter.”

As Ms. Defoe started asking Lindsay specifics of her thought process and the detailing on the crash figure, Tony excused himself to take more pictures. 

Tony had to say that the decorations, while great to start with, also helped inspire his own photos. Maybe it was his inner-Goya, but he liked the dark energy that came from students still dancing and apparently enjoying themselves while the death of an artist lingered around them. He eventually went into the bleachers to get a better view of the crowded gym floor.

“Well, look who decided to show up.”

Tony turned and saw Sally smirking at him. He didn’t know what it said about him, but he could tell just from how her hair was styled that she had been done-up by Angela. Her hair looked good, but definitely far more _involved_ than how she normally did it. He had never thought about how she really did seem to favor simple hair styles and make-up compared to all the other cheerleaders.

He also didn't know what it said about him that he was actually kinda happy to see her.

“You know, Angela told me you’d be here, but I really thought she had to be kidding,” Sally said.

“Well, yeah. I’m here. Mostly as a favor,” Tony said, gesturing to the camera in his hand. “I got stuck taking pictures.”

“…So, they’re yearbook photos?” Sally asked with a grin.

Tony rolled his eyes. “No—" He cut himself off when he realized that they technically _were_ yearbook photos. "Well, yeah, sorta. But all I’m doing is passing them on to you guys and you can edit it however you want. Just this once.”

While Sally didn’t look entirely pleased with that answer, she nodded. After a few moments, she said, “Wait, you said ‘mostly’. Why else are you here?”

Tony snorted. “When I said I was thinking of going, my parents bribed me."

“Really?”

“They want to think I’m ‘well-adjusted’ or something. So, I got some money and an extended curfew. Lindsay and I are only planning on staying for a little bit and then we’re going out somewhere.” Well, that was the initial plan, but Tony wasn’t sure where they’d even go. Gob’s band had a gig that night, but the risk of possibly hearing that perky-ass song, especially with the whole band backing him up, gave Tony a headache.

Then again, the whole trying not to have a crush on Gob thing would definitely be aided by that.

Tony turned his attention back to the dance floor and his eyes landed on his sister, who was busy dancing between two guys. He snorted and brought up the camera to his right eye to get a proper photo of that. Hey, the idea of having blackmail material was still appealing, and he knew their dad would freak if he got a shot of _that_ little threesome going on.

“So, your parents bribe you to join things and be social?” Sally asked.

“Sometimes, yeah. Or they’ll let me get away with things if it involves me seeming to enjoy people’s company,” Tony said, adjusting the lens on his camera. “Don’t think they’d want me to be at _Angie’s_ level of ‘social’, though.” He smirked to himself at his own joke.

“Hmmm…” Sally said, “Makes you wonder how much they’d pay if you actually joined an after-school activity.”

“Right,” Tony said absent-mindedly.

_Click!_

“Especially if that activity made you go to more social events.”

_Click!_

“Right…”

“Like yearbook or something.”

Tony turned to her mid-click and said, “Yeah, that’s _not_ gonna happen.”

Sally sighed. “Fine. Just figured I’d point out the bribing opportunity.” She sat down and Tony re-focused his camera as he surveyed the crowd.

After a few more shots, Tony asked, “Shouldn’t you be down there enjoying the social stuff you allegedly love and want to preserve in the yearbook?”

Sally laughed softly. “Well, like you said, maybe I really don’t care about this stuff that much.” She looked over the crowd and said, “Plus, this gives you the best view of all the funny stuff. The spills people keep slipping on, the bad dancing, the crimped hair, the mating rituals…”

Tony raised an eyebrow and laughed slightly. “You really sounded like Lindsay then.”

He looked back over at her in time to see her smile sadly. “There was a reason we were friends,” she said. 

Before Tony could say anything back, the DJ announced it was time to slow it down and he started to play some pop ballad. Immediately, Tony looked back towards where Angela was with her dates, wondering just how she was going to handle that one.

He was _not_ disappointed. 

Tony watched both boys try to slow dance with her until she pushed them off of her. Even from the bleachers, Tony could hear her yell, _“Ew!_ Get _off_ of me!”

Tony laughed as both boys looked highly disappointed and embarrassed as she continued ranting at them, now at a volume that Tony couldn’t hear. He knew for a fact that she didn’t slow dance until, like, the fifth date.

The scene got more intriguing as another guy, apparently thinking she was in trouble, stepped in to help protect her. She at first looked dismissive of him but then, after giving him the once over, immediately put on a flirty look. Tony shook his head at how the guy turned into putty in her hands almost immediately, the other two boys she had shown up with soon glaring at the new guy.

“God…your sister really knows how to milk it for all its worth,” Sally said.

Tony snorted. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“I wish I could make guys melt like that. It seems fun.”

“Does Michael not count?” Tony asked.

Sally laughed slightly. “Michael isn’t _nearly_ as whipped as any guy is around Angela.” After a moment she added, “Besides, it’s not like I’m interested back.”

Tony whipped his head around. “What? But I thought you liked him.”

“Well, he _is_ kinda cute in his own weird way,” Sally admitted, making Tony frown slightly. _Was_ he cute? He completely missed _that_ memo—but, then again, he had been so taken by Gob that no other Bluth was going to compete in his eyes. “But, I don’t know…I like that he likes the same stuff as me, but I’m not sure I’d really want to date someone who’s that similar to me. Like, having someone to balance me out sounds better, don’t you think?”

…Like Gob would be for Tony.

Well, if he wasn’t writing _that song._ Thank god his crush seemed to finally be fading because of how _weird_ it was.

Tony, not wanting to think about that, asked, “But didn’t you go after him?”

“…Just for a little bit.” She explained, “I thought we made sense, that’s all. And out of everyone I know, he seemed like the more appropriate choice to have a crush on.” 

Tony wasn’t sure he agreed, given the whole circumstances of Michael being her ex-best friend’s twin. 

Sally seemed to be thinking along those lines, because she suddenly asked, “Lindsay did this, didn’t she?” At Tony’s blank look she clarified, “The decorations and everything? There’s no way Angela had time to do this before we all got ready.”

“…Yeah. Lindsay did this. All by herself.”

Sally nodded and looked around at the decorations some more. Tony went back to taking some photos, trying to get some good shots of the crash site. Ms. Defoe and Lindsay were still talking, and even from how far away they were, Tony could see how happy she was. Sally made a small noise and Tony turned to her to find that she was also looking that way, a slight smile on her face.

Without even thinking about it, Tony pressed down on the shutter.

_Click!_

Sally snapped out of it and gave him a questioning look.

Tony shrugged. “It was a good picture.” Sally looked at him curiously, as if trying to find some meaning to what he had said. “Hey, you’re the one who says I’m such a great observer or whatever; you’d think you’d trust my judgment on it.”

Slowly, Sally smiled and shook her head. “…Well, I guess I can’t say I’d hate having another photo in the yearbook. Maybe if I had known about this I wouldn't have joined French Club. The only reason to join it is to get another yearbook photo, of course."

“But what about your love of the French people and their culture?”

Sally smiled, her dimples on full display. She really _did_ have a nice smile, at least when it was a genuine one. And Tony was pretty sure that was a genuine one.

“Love had nothing to do with it," Sally said honestly. Then, with one last look at Tony, she headed down the bleachers and onto the makeshift dance floor.

* * *

“It was _such_ a fun dance,” Angela said at the next family dinner, that Monday night. 

Tony just barely managed to hold himself back from pointing out that _obviously_ she felt that way, seeing as she went with two guys and ended up getting a third guy to ask for her phone number. But, hey, at least she was having fun. 

“Thank you for the cupcakes, by the way; everyone _loved_ them,” Angela told her dad and older sister. “I’m sure we’ll be getting some more attention soon enough from that.”

Just like how Angela was definitely getting some “attention.”

“Just like how _Tony_ seems to finally be getting some ‘attention,’” Angela said with a smirk.

Okay, now she was just stealing his joke _again._ But it didn’t even make _sense_ that time—and he hadn’t even said it out loud!

“What are you talking about?” Tony asked.

“I saw you up in the bleachers with Sally Sitwell,” Angela teased. 

Tony scoffed and Lizzie asked, “Tony has a _girlfriend?”_

“Shoulda known the gay thing was just some phase to make him edgy,” Daniel said with a disappointed shake of his head. 

“I’m not _gay,_ I’m _bi,”_ Tony said with exasperation. How many times did he have to _say_ that?

“What’s she like?” Pip asked excitedly. “Is Tony’s girlfriend pretty? Does she like all black like him? Is she—”

“She’s _not_ my girlfriend,” Tony said. “She’s not even a _friend.”_

“Then what were you two doing talking for so long, hmm?” Angela asked with a smug smile.

Tony rolled his eyes. “We’re in photography class together and she’s been trying to convince me to join the yearbook staff—”

“Yearbook?” Giulia asked, sounding almost as excited as her youngest daughter had just seconds earlier. “You’re joining yearbook?”

“What? No!” Tony said firmly. Wanting the subject off of him, he calmly said, “If anyone’s getting some ‘attention’, I’d assume it’d be the girl who ended up going to the dance with _three_ guys.”

 _“Three?!”_ Dan exclaimed, his eyes wide as he looked at his daughter.

Angela sent Tony a glare before quickly telling her dad that Tony was _exaggerating_ and it wasn’t like she was _dating_ any of them and _really_ it _wasn’t_ a big deal.

Tony just smirked as he cut into his bit of the frozen lasagna. His siblings really needed to learn to stop messing with him.

* * *

Once Daniel and Chiara headed back to their place, Tony went up to his room.

It was still strange to be in his room without Daniel. Mike didn’t hang out in there too often, so it was often just him in there. Tony wasn’t used to having privacy like that at _all._ He liked it, but it was still strange. Eery. _Alien._

It took him a bite of time before he pulled out his photography book and, along with it, his stack of photos from the dance he developed that day. He was actually rather proud of how a lot of the shots turned out. 

Tony heard a knock on his door and, after a moment, told them to come in. He raised his eyebrows slightly when he saw it was his mom. She normally only came by when she was going to bed or when Lindsay was over.

“Hey,” Tony said. His tone already made it clear he was confused to see her in his space.

“Hey,” she replied. She looked around his room and shook her head ever so slightly. “It’s so strange seeing this place so empty.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah…”

She looked over at where Daniel’s bed used to be and then back to what Tony was holding. “Are those the photos you took of the dance?”

“Most of them. The ones I thought were good enough, at least.”

“Can I look at them?” Giulia asked.

After a moment, Tony shrugged and handed them over. 

As nonchalant as he acted, however, Tony did watch his mom’s face carefully. He still wanted her to think he did a good job, even if she was his mom and would think he did a good job regardless. 

“Wow…Lindsay really _did_ do a great job,” she said as she looked through the first few photos carefully. 

“Yeah, she did,” Tony agreed.

She flipped to the photo of Lindsay smiling as she looked over her work and smiled as well. “She looks so happy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it turned out great.”

His mom flipped through some more pictures, not offering much commentary until she landed on a particular picture. “Who’s this?”

Tony tilted his head to see the picture, though he had a feeling he knew which one it was just from how his mom was asking. “Uh…that’s Sally. Sally Sitwell.”

“She certainly looks happy to be around you,” Giulia said. She smiled slightly, knowingly. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “She’s not even a _friend,_ ma.” After a beat, he added, “She _can’t_ be.”

Giulia tilted her head with a curious expression on her face. “What do you mean? Why not?”

Tony looked towards the door, as if afraid someone would come in and start teasing him for talking to his mom.

But, okay, the fact was that, one-on-one, Tony didn’t hate talking to his mom as much as he led on. He wasn’t a mama’s boy by any means, but when it was just the two of them, he didn’t mind hearing her point of view. And maybe in the past, he had even purposefully sought out her point of view. Angela was always his biggest confidant in the family, but she could have a lot of bias he didn’t need when making decisions. The younger siblings were too young to really talk to, Daniel was too _Daniel,_ his dad was clueless on how to handle most things, and Chiara was, weirdly, often times even _more_ maternal than his actual mom. 

The main reason he didn’t talk to her as much was just that getting her alone was never easy. Between a demanding day job, pre-breakfast speed walks, some shifts at the bakery, seven children, and a husband who could be just as much work as any of her children could be, she was a busy woman.

But, here she was, actually carving some time to spend with him. And, okay, maybe that made him really lame, but he kind of wanted to show her some appreciation for that.

“…Sally is, like, Lindsay’s mortal enemy,” Tony explained. “They were best friends growing up and then last year, Sally told the cheerleading coach that…well, you know.”

Giulia nodded. While Tony had always claimed it was a lie, ever since Lindsay had that first dinner with them, Giulia could tell that there was more truth to her disordered eating than Tony would say. And Tony knew that his mom knew that, too, even if she hadn’t said anything out loud.

It was just a very delicate subject.

“Besides, we’re from two completely different worlds. And I could never be friends with someone who’d do that to Lindsay…”

Giulia raised an eyebrow, very much aware that her son had more to say than that. _“But…?”_

Tony looked at his mom for a moment before sighing and rolling his eyes. “…But Sally’s a lot different from other cheerleaders. She’s actually funny and smart and _driven._ She said she’s only a cheerleader because we don’t have a gymnastics team.” Tony thought about it and then added, “And she doesn’t really care about things like everyone else does. Not in, like, a shallow way, at least. She cares about important things and just…she just wants to actually do something with her life. It’s actually kinda… _cool.”_

After another moment, Tony continued, “She told me she told the coach what she did partly to help Lindsay. And…and I guess we wouldn’t even be friends if she hadn’t, you know?”

“Right,” Giulia said softly.

“…And, in a way, I guess it really _did_ help Lindsay,” Tony said. 

Giulia nodded and looked over her son carefully. 

She knew that, despite how he acted, Tony was a lot more sensitive than he let on. She knew part of why he had developed a lack of interest in most people was because he had been teased about it so much by his peers. She knew that if she wasn’t careful with choosing her words, she’d very likely hurt him or worsen the situation.

So, after a long moment, Giulia told him, “It’s a complicated situation, Antonio, I’ll give you that.”

 _“Thanks,”_ Tony said dryly.

“But you and Lindsay have a deep friendship. I’m sure you befriending someone else wouldn’t ruin that, even if it _is_ someone Lindsay doesn’t like.”

“‘Doesn’t like’ is really putting it _mildly,_ ma.” Before his mom could continue, Tony said, “It’s fine, anyways. It’s not like we’d have any chances to really hang out. She’s in, like, a million after school activities.”

Giulia looked at her son like she looked at some of the more complex mathematical equations involved in her actuarial work. “Like yearbook, right?”

“…Right.”

She looked back down at Tony’s pictures and flipped through a few more. “These are really good, Tony,” she told him after a moment.

“You’re my mom; you have to say that.”

“But it’s true. And _you_ know these are good. And Sally knows that, too. And your teacher, for that matter.” Tony made a face and Giulia continued on. “I don’t think it would hurt for you to at least _consider_ yearbook. It could help you make some more friends—not just Sally—and help with your college applications.”

Tony looked at his mom and then the photos in her hands. Fighting off a grin, he said, “Well, you know, if I had more friends, that means less time at the bakery.”

“I guess…”

“And less time at the bakery means less money to _do_ anything with those friends. I mean, I guess they’re rich enough they’d probably pay for me to do most things…”

Tony barely managed to hold back a laugh when he looked at his mom’s face. Her pride would _never_ let her son have other people pay for him. They were _not_ desperate or deserving of pity or _anything_ just because they had a large family that required a big budget.

“…I’m sure your father and I could work something out,” Giulia said firmly as she turned her attention back to the photos.

Only, of course, to flip to a photo of Angela sandwiched between her two initial dates on the dance floor.

Giulia looked to her son with an exasperated look and handed him the photo. “And be sure your father never sees that one; I’m not ready to have to care for him after bypass surgery.”

* * *

Tony stood outside the classroom for a long time. He shifted his backpack, dreading what was waiting for him behind that door. He wanted more than anything to run away before it was too late. His heart was _screaming_ at him to do it, while his brain was telling him that he was being ridiculous and it wasn’t a _big_ deal and he _had_ made a commitment and, as his mom would say, “a commitment’s a commitment.”

Plus, she _had_ given him a lot of money…

With a big breath, Tony pushed the door open and stepped into the classroom. Almost immediately, the fluorescents felt too bright and the chatter was too lively and he was ready to turn around and leave.

In fact, he had actually turned around when he heard someone say, “Tony?”

Tony turned back to face Sally. He took another deep breath and moved forward, dropping his backpack on one of the tables. 

“You owe me,” Tony said.

Slowly, Sally started to smile. She turned to the rest of the room and, after gathering everyone’s attention, she announced, “I’d like for you guys to meet Tony Wunderlich, our newest photographer for the 1999 edition of the Balboa High yearbook.”

It wasn’t exactly a thunderous applause, but at least Sally tried to get some enthusiasm.

Eventually, he and Sally sat down to go over the spring dance photos. The two of them got to decide a nice arrangement for the photos and came up with a small blurb to describe the night. Tony made sure they mentioned that Lindsay was the one who decorated it; she deserved the recognition. 

“I don’t think we should use that photo, though,” Tony said of the picture he got of her smiling before she was dance-ready. “I’m not sure she’s ready to have a make-up and hair-style free picture in the yearbook.”

“You’re probably right,” Sally said, looking at the photo with a frown. “It’s a shame; she looks great in it…” After a beat, she looked up at Tony and asked, “Wait, where’s that photo you got of me? I was looking forward to seeing it.”

Tony hesitated. “…It didn’t turn out that great. I think I moved my camera a bit too quickly.” Sally sighed but nodded and Tony did his best to tell himself the only reason he kept it was so that it wouldn’t end up in the yearbook and give Angie more reason to think he was into Sally.

He couldn’t think of any other reason why it was stored safely in his journal.

* * *

“I still can’t believe it,” Lindsay said next time she and Tony went to her house. “Antonio Francesco Wunderlich— _Yearbook Staff."_

“I know.”

“Seriously, of all things!”

“I _know.”_

“Like, I could _totally_ see you joining newspaper or something. Like, that’s _totally_ you. But _yearbook?”_ She shook her head with a laugh. “Well, at least you get to provide an insight no one else has. A twisted one, but a unique one.”

“Says the person who decorated a school dance with disembodied hands trying to drive out of a car accident?”

“Birds of a feather or whatever, right?” 

“Right. One Goya to another.”

Lindsay smiled slightly and laughed under her breath.

“Speaking of disturbing…” Tony looked around before asking, “You're absolutely _sure_ done playing that song?”

Lindsay nodded. “Yes, thank _god._ I haven’t heard it in over a week.” She corrected herself, “Well, except in my nightmares, but I don’t think we can blame _that_ one on aliens.”

“Right,” Tony agreed.

He sat down with Lindsay on her bed as Lindsay pulled out her art history textbook to study for her upcoming exam. Tony, as usual, turned on the TV for them to have some background noise before he pulled out his math textbook to get started on studying for his test as well. 

Tony was really starting to relax—well, relax as much as possible for someone getting ready for tests—so sure that he wouldn’t have to hear that song again. But then, his stomach lurched as he heard those chords—he had to be imagining things, right?

But Lindsay sat up straight as well, obviously hearing the same thing. Their heads turned to the TV when they realized it was coming from that and not from Gob’s room.

“Oh my _god,_ did the aliens get in my TV?!” 

Tony turned up the volume a little and realized that, holy shit, the song Gob had written was a _jingle._

[ _If you don’t have a car or your present car sucks_ _  
__Go to Happy Herb’s with a few thousand bucks…_ ](https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2zzt8w)

The two of them watched as a car commercial played with Gob’s jaunty little tune. Images of cars driving down roads flashed on the screen as Gob’s distinct voice sang to the melody he had been humming. And the jingle’s tune was definitely cheerful, but the lyrics were a bit harsher, showing that he hadn’t lost his edge. Not yet, at least.

 _So go buy a car_ _  
__Buy a damn car!_  
 _Hit the road to nowhere_ _  
_In your Happy Herb car!

As the apparently titular Happy Herb announced they should “come on down”, Lindsay and Tony sat back in shock. _“Wow,”_ Lindsay said, unable to think of anything else to say.

“So, now you know.”

Lindsay and Tony turned to the door, surprised to find Gob there. 

“Oh. Uh, nice jingle,” Tony said.

Gob sighed. “You don’t have to tell me: I’m a complete sell-out.” He sighed again, lowering his headslightly. “He even gave my name to more people so I could do this whole thing again.”

“How did you even get this gig in the first place?” Lindsay asked. “It’s not really the sort of thing someone would think about after hearing your band or anything.”

“…I met him at another type of gig. And he mentioned needing a songwriter, I told him I wrote stuff and then it turned out to be a jingle, but…I figured I had to go with it,” Gob said reluctantly.

Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “Another kind of gig? Like, what? Did the Hot Cops decide to take you early?”

“Ew! _God,_ no. I wouldn’t even know what to do if _he_ came in…ew,” Gob said with a shudder. 

Tony let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding at the mere idea of Gob stripping for some old car dealer. 

Seeming embarrassed to admit it, Gob mumbled, “…I got a job at this fancy restaurant a couple times a week. To play piano…a bit of some light jazz, but they’ve been cool with classical stuff, too. So…so I’ve been practicing a lot of that on my keyboard, too.” 

“Aw!” Lindsay said, sounding excited. “You’re doing classical music again? I wanna come see you!”

“I actually forgot how much I liked playing that stuff,” Gob said sheepishly. “Not as much as the rock stuff, but almost as much…and it’s nice performing it again. And getting paid more. And getting tips.” He crossed his arms and said, “I just hope mom and dad don’t find out. It’s near LA, and they never go that far for dinner, but if one of their country club friends do…they won’t like the idea of me making money off of tips out there.”

Tony said, “But they told you to get a job, didn’t they? And they know that’s your strongest skill, so it’s their own fault.”

Lindsay agreed. “Tony’s right. It’s their own damn fault.”

“I guess that’s true…”

“It is. And, hey, I’m impressed,” Lindsay said. “You found a job making money doing what you love _and_ you’re playing classical again—maybe it’s not rock, but I know you love doing it and have missed it. All of that is showing some _real_ initiative.”

Tony realized she was right about that.

“You’re really trying to make this music thing happen, aren’t you?” Lindsay asked. Gob nodded and she smiled. “Wow. Ambition’s a weird look on you, but I like it.”

…Tony liked it, too.

“Even that way too cheesy jingle is something impressive, you know. It doesn’t make you a sell-out to make money selling something. At least you went for something and took a risk,” Lindsay said encouragingly. She looked at Tony and asked, “Right?”

Tony took a moment before nodding. “She’s right. It’s…it’s real initiative. You can really make a career from it, too, you know. Music, I mean. If you can play classical _and_ rock and then turn around and write a jingle like that. It’s…it’s impressive. You’re, like, a chameleon. And that really proves you have a future in the industry.”

“For sure! Flexibility is a big thing in the arts.” Lindsay smiled and added, “That’s what Ms. Defoe was telling me at the dance and I know it’s the same thing for performing arts, too.”

Gob nodded, seeming to perk up a little. “You’re right. Thanks, Linds.” He looked at Tony and added, “And you, too, Tony.”

As Gob smiled at him, Tony felt his heart flutter. A flutter that made his stomach sink as he realized that crush wasn’t going away anytime soon. 

…Why couldn’t it just have been god damn aliens?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!! Well, anyone familiar with the show was probably thrown off just from the title of this chapter and all so…!!! I'm really excited because, as I'm sure you can all tell, drama is COMING! I'm very excited to write out these next parts, though I'm also a little scared lol. It'll be worth it, though! 
> 
> Also, please forgive me for not knowing, like, anything about visual art lol. I haven't taken a visual art class since I was 11; it's just been the performing arts since then. I like to think I somewhat made sense talking about photography, but forgive me if I used bad terms and didn't come up with the best ideas for pictures lol.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this and thank you so much for reading!! You're all the best <3 and happy 2020!! First post of mine for the year!! <3


	7. Have You Been Watching Little Women Again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based primarily on ~~(deep, mournful sigh)~~ "Dye! Dye! My Darling" (4x13), with hints of "Camp Fear" (5x04) and preparations for the first television movie, _Is It Fall Yet?_ (5x00)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Darn. This reunion is next weekend, and I already promised Prince Charming I'd go to the ball."  
> "Well, _I'm_ going. I can't wait to see the friends I made in my days of childish innocence, before high school and its web of complicated and competitive relationships. When just being girls together was enough."  
> "Have you been watching Little Women again?"  
> -Daria and Quinn Morgendorffer, "Camp Fear" (5x04)

Lindsay stared intently at the tiger in the cage. She had been sketching it earlier, working on getting the proper shading on its fur and the curves and straight lines of its muscles. It had been hard, because it had been pacing, circling its small enclosure, longing for more, for adventure, for escape from the mundane life it lived.

Or maybe she was just making shit up and the tiger had just wanted to take a walk.

Finally, the tiger had sat down in a perfect spot for Lindsay to finish her drawing. She was intending on doing just that, but when she looked up, it was like the tiger was staring right at her. They literally locked eyes, and she felt a strangely human connection. She realized she hadn’t been reading too much into it. The tiger wanted out.

“Okay?”

Lindsay finally blinked, but didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally, the tiger looked away and Lindsay nodded. “Okay.” She turned to Gob, who had taken her to the zoo at her request, and nodded again, a gesture to show that they could leave.

At least _they_ got to, even if the tiger didn’t.

Once they were back in Gob’s car, Lindsay said, “Thanks for keeping me company, Gob.”

“No problem. Needed a break from practicing anyways.”

“Didn’t realize sleeping with a guitar in your hand was practicing.”

“S’long as you don’t drop it.”

Lindsay smiled in spite of herself and shook her head before looking out the window.

“Just surprised that you asked me,” Gob said.

“You and I never go on rides anymore. We should go on more rides—have more adventures together. You know, like last summer.”

The summer before had been one of the hardest but one of the best in Lindsay’s life. So much had happened, so much change, so much _growth._ She was a completely different person than she had been when that summer had started.

After getting kicked off the cheerleading team, Lindsay had been ready to spend the summer alone in mourning and in anger. She had hated herself, she had hated her former fellow cheerleaders—she had _despised_ Sally. 

And while Michael was off working—he always worked long hours in the summer, which Lindsay wasn’t sure was even _legal_ because of his age—and Buster was hanging onto their mom like usual, Gob had been there. He seemed to realize how lost she was. He seemed to know what she needed. He seemed to know how to make her feel better. He seemed to know how to help her be herself, something she hadn’t been for years, if _ever._ And it was as simple as taking her to parties or hanging out in her room or, like she said, going on rides. They had spent so many nights that summer just driving around aimlessly, sometimes in silence, sometimes with the music playing, sometimes talking about everything and nothing. It was bad for the environment, maybe, but it was good for her spirit—his, too. Sometimes it was easier to talk in a car when you didn’t have a chance to really look at someone than it was to say the words anywhere else.

Lindsay had assumed that summer would be the same. But things were changing. Some of those things were things she wanted, perhaps even things she desperately needed for more than one reason. But the idea of it still terrified her.

“I thought you would’ve brought Tony along, too.”

That was another thing that was changing, or at least it seemed like it was. That change, if she wasn’t imagining things, was one she didn’t like.

“He’s busy,” Lindsay said, somehow masking the bitterness she felt at those words. “Yearbook.”

"Ah."

It still blew her mind that Tony had joined _yearbook_ of all things. She got that his parents bribed him, but it was just so unlike him. They may have not known each other for even a full year yet, but she _knew_ him, and she _knew_ yearbook wasn’t his thing.

“They’re getting ready to print, so he’s been staying later and later after school,” she explained. “Then he’s doing some shifts at the bakery on weekends to help balance it out—when he’s not at some event to take pictures for said yearbook.” She shook her head with a slight snort. “He even went to _senior prom_ last week.”

"Prom's fun."

“Angela didn’t even win Prom Queen, so I don’t think either of them had a great time,” Lindsay said. And, god, as much as she had started to enjoy Angela’s company, it was crazy to her that she would’ve _loved_ to be spending time with her just because Tony was so busy. Any Wunderlich would’ve been great, really, but even Angela was busy. Her last round of finals were coming up, not to mention AP tests, and she was getting ready to start college in the fall. It was only community college, but it was still a change.

“Eh, if someone spiked the punch, it would still be fun,” Gob said with a small shrug.

“Maybe,” Lindsay said.

“Did he get to bring anyone?”

Lindsay shook his head. “No. A few other yearbook staff was there, I guess, but he couldn’t bring a guest.” Or she assumed he couldn’t, at least. Because, if he could’ve, she would’ve at least liked to have been _asked._ She figured they could’ve had fun together.

“That sucks,” Gob said. “For both of you. Unless he’s, like, friends with them.” His sister tensed and he shot her a quick look. “What? He’s allowed to have friends besides you, you know.”

“I know that,” Lindsay said sharply. “…The yearbook staff just happens to include Sally Sitwell.”

Tony had promised that he wouldn’t go to the dark side and actually befriend Sally. He had promised she had nothing to worry about. But she knew from the brief greetings they exchanged in the hall and the stories he told where he specifically didn’t name any names that they were friends.

And, fine, she really couldn’t blame him. After all, she could see how the two of them could get along so well. Her own feelings for Sally were mixed up, anyways, especially since Tony had told her that Sally said she missed her. Lindsay still had no idea what had happened between the two of them to begin with; their relationship was unlike anything she had before. It was something special, like what she had with Tony, but also nothing like what she had with Tony, either. Sally Sitwell was a confusing subject all on her own.

And something about her befriending Tony just made it all the more confusing.

Gob gave his sister another look before turning back to the road in front of him. Really, he didn’t get the situation of what was going on with his sister and Sally anymore than she did. He just figured girls were a lot more complicated than guys when it came to feelings and shit.

Then again, it wasn’t like he really had room to talk. Not with how complicated his own feelings about guys had become ever since his bandmates had brought up the whole not-straight thing. It was beginning to be as complicated as the Sally and Lindsay of it all.

Weird comparison, but still an apt one.

After a moment, he finally said, “I don’t think you have to worry about him. He might be busy now, but then you have this summer and everything, right?” Gob shrugged and said, “Maybe he’ll join us on some rides.”

Lindsay looked at Gob guiltily and then back out the window. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Gob gave Lindsay another look because, come on, that was a _weird_ response. But he said nothing as he turned back to the road ahead of him.

“What do you mean, ‘mm’?” Lindsay asked.

“I didn’t say ‘mm’.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Lindsay looked at Gob for a moment before looking back out the window. “…Mmm.”

* * *

The end of the school year was always frantic in the Wunderlich household.

Even with Chiara and Daniel in their own place, things were still crazy. Mike and Pip were growing restless at the promise of their summer break to come. Mike seemed to literally be vibrating with energy, even if he still remained silent, and Pip had to be told to shut up even more than usual. To be fair, that wasn't necessarily because she was talking more than usual, but more because Lizzie, Tony, and Angela all had big tests to study for. Not only did their parents expect good grades, but all three of them were pushing themselves even more. Lizzie, ever a perfectionist brain, wouldn’t be satisfied unless she got 100% on all of her tests—and she’d prefer getting the extra credit, too. Tony, well aware that his grades were one of the best things on his college applications, wasn’t going to settle for anything but As. And Angela, even if she was getting ready for college and had no reason to worry about passing, wanted to keep a high GPA to show her parents she was responsible, so she’d hopefully get their support to go to beauty school after their demand she went to a year of college first. All of that studying meant the three of them were often distracted when working at the bakery, putting more pressure on Dan, Chiara, and Daniel.

And, of course, Giulia, constantly trying to be Super Mom, battled against all of that to pack lunches, get the kids out the door in time, and still do her actual _paying_ job.

No one seemed to understand what an actuary did. Most of her family didn't know, either, but normally the busiest time of year for her was January through March. But some big emergency had come up at work, and she was starting to put in even more hours than usual, making the house even more chaotic than finals season normally was. If she let other people actually help her with other things instead of insisting she was fine and didn’t need any help, maybe things would be easier. 

And maybe Tony wouldn’t have ended up with his little sister’s packed lunch that definitely wasn’t going to keep him full. He went ahead and bought his lunch that day alongside Lindsay, though the cafeteria food didn’t look quite as appetizing as the brisket sandwich his mom had been planning on packing for him from their leftovers. Chiara had pulled out all the stops for her boyfriend’s first dinner with the whole family.

“Is the packed lunch really that bad?” Lindsay asked as she looked over Tony’s meal. While she had gotten a salad, which she considered the only edible cafeteria food available, he had what looked like what was supposed to be chicken nuggets. In a past life. “I heard those things _bounce.”_

Tony pulled out the sandwich his mom packed Pip with a raised eyebrow. The sandwich that had been cut into a _heart._

“…On the bright side, there’s no crust?” Lindsay offered hopefully.

 _“Total_ bright side,” Tony said dryly. He shook his head and said, “It _had_ to be the person who doesn’t even eat peanut butter with her jelly, too. Freaking little weirdo.” 

“That actually sounds really delicious,” Lindsay said with a shrug. 

“You don’t like peanut butter?”

“It’s hard to enjoy it when you had to watch your older brother eat spoonfuls of it from the jar—or, fuck, when you watched him shove Reese’s into his mouth every Easter.”

“Gob likes Reese’s?”

“Yeah, he talks about them so sexually, too. It’s disturbing,” Lindsay said with a shudder.

“So, Reese’s and oatmeal cookies. Any other favorite foods I should know about?”

Lindsay snorted. “When left to his own devices, the Gob Bluth food groups are,” she held up her fingers to count for Tony, “alcohol, uncooked spaghetti, parmesan cheese, and mustard. I can’t remember the last time I saw him eat anything else when he’s had to feed himself.” She looked back at her friend and smirked slightly. “How do you feel about that?”

Tony considered this new information and sighed. Nope, he still hadn't lost interest. “…Artists have weird tastes?”

Lindsay chuckled and shook her head. “I _really_ thought the spaghetti thing would get you, ‘cause of the Italian thing.”

“It’s weird, yeah. But I’m not the big chef of my family like ma or Kiki or Michael, so I can’t really say anything,” Tony said with a shrug.

Again, Lindsay just shook her head at him. She looked down at her salad and then sighed. “Ugh. I forgot the dressing.” While part of her said she didn’t need the calories, she fought that voice and excused herself to grab some.

Seconds after she had left, Tony felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around as he said, “Hey?”

“Hey,” Sally said quickly, “Can you stay late tonight?.”

Tony hesitated. “…I mean, I guess? How late are we talking? Am I walking home in the dark—”

“I can give you a ride. I just need your help with putting the finishing touches on everything.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Me? What about Susan—”

“You mean my ‘co-editor in chief’ who has decided that senioritis is more important than her obligations to the yearbook despite how she pitched a fit when I was fairly chosen as the sole editor until she got added?” Sally rolled her eyes at the reminder. “Yeah, she’s not helping. And you’re the only person on the team I actually trust to make sure it looks good—and the only person besides me who can actually spell more than their name and whatever latest cheer the squad leads them in.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile at that. It was pretty funny coming from someone who had worn her cheerleading uniform that day. “Well, that’s flattering—”

Before he could add a “but” to that statement, Sally pleaded, _“Please?”_

After a moment, he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“Thank you—”

Sally cut herself off as she saw Lindsay back at the table, salad dressing in hand. She remained standing as she glared at Sally. Sally, for her part, averted her eyes guiltily as Tony moved slightly to the side. He really didn’t want to actually be in the middle of the two of them.

“…I’ll see you later, Tony,” Sally finally said. She looked back up at Lindsay and, after another moment, told her, “I really like your hair streaks, Lindsay…and, like, your whole look and everything. I’ve wanted to tell you that for a while, but…” She gave her a small, shaky smile before leaving the two of them alone.

For a moment, Lindsay looked a bit confused, then flattered, but then she seemed to remember she was angry at Sally and narrowed her eyes again. Lindsay glared at Sally’s retreating frame for a while longer before sitting back down. She opened up the small container of salad dressing and poured it onto her salad, angrily mixing the dressing in. And, yes, before that moment, Tony never would’ve thought he’d see someone do something “angrily” with a salad.

“So,” Lindsay said, her voice a bit higher than usual, tenser, “what was that about?”

“Just a yearbook thing,” Tony told her quickly. Lindsay hummed but said nothing else in response. Once it was clear she was done talking for a while, Tony took one of the chicken nuggets, dipped it in ketchup, and had a bite.

“…Maybe I’ll just stick with the jelly sandwich.”

* * *

Apparently teachers could get senioritis, too. Or whatever you’d call it when the urge to get to summer made you not want to work long hours. Tony and Sally learned that the hard way as they were kicked out of the journalism room earlier than Sally wanted so their teacher could go home.

Thankfully, Sally had a print-out that they could work on at her place.

Well, _she_ was thankful for that at least. Tony was really over editing everything, but he got in her car and went over to her place anyways.

And Sally’s place was _not_ what Tony expected.

Tony knew that the Sitwells were a rival company to the Bluths, so he had assumed they’d also have a big, ornate house. However, their place was smaller and a lot more humble, but still nice. Possibly even nicer than his house but they made and sold houses for a living, so it made sense.

It wasn't like Tony got a great look at everything, though, seeing as Sally led him directly to his room. Sally’s room was definitely not like Lindsay's, though. It was neat and tidy with just a few posters on the walls. The main decoration seemed to be a shelf full of trophies, medals, and plaques for various awards and honors she had earned over the years, starting with an elementary school one for perfect attendance.

Of _course._

The most disturbing part of being there, though, was how _quiet_ it was. No pets, no maids, and no parents. It was almost  _eerily_ quiet, honestly. Unnervingly so, at least for someone like Tony who rarely got to be alone at home.

“Do both your parents work?” 

“My mom died when I was two,” Sally answered.

“Oh…I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault, but thanks,” Sally said simply. At Tony’s look, she sighed. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m someone to be pitied.” Tony opened his mouth to say something, but she told him, “I only ever remember it being me and my dad, so it’s not really that weird or bad or anything. It kinda sucks, but you can't miss something you never knew."

“…Do you not have any siblings?” Tony asked.

“Nope. Only child.”

Tony stared at her.

“What?”

“I’m just trying to imagine what being an only child is like.”

Sally shrugged. “Quiet.” Before Tony could say anything else, she pulled out the print out of the yearbook and started to tell Tony what to do.

About an hour or so into their work, Tony got to meet her father as he stopped by her room. Tony couldn’t believe he was already home. Lindsay’s dad never seemed to make it back before sunset.

“Dad, this is Tony,” Sally explained. “He’s here to help me finish up yearbook.”

“Nice to meet you, Tony.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Sitwell,” Tony said, standing up and shaking his hand.

“Ah, Mr. Sitwell’s my father; call me Stan.”

Tony was _definitely_ not expecting that, even if his own parents did that. “Uh, okay, Stan. Nice to meet you.” His eyes flicked up to one of Stan’s eyebrows, which seemed to be wrinkled in a weird way, like it was going to fall off his face. Weird.

"Are you going to be staying for dinner?"

Tony looked between Sally and her dad. "Uh, probably depends on how long this takes. I have a lot of studying left for finals."

"Well, let me know and I can throw in an extra order of pork dumplings to our usual order."

"Dad!" Sally reprimanded. "Tony's  _Jewish."_

"Oh, I'm sorry—"

"It's fine. The closest I get to keeping Kosher is eating matzah during Passover. We always get extra shrimp when we order Chinese," Tony said. He was just surprised Stan hadn't assumed he was Jewish like Lucille had. And had even started to apologize for not considering his religion.

But he was still most confused about why his eyebrow looked like _that._

Sally seemed to finally notice it as well. “Dad,” Sally said with a clearing of her throat. She whispered, “Your eyebrow.”

Stan brought a hand to it and then—took it off? _What?_

“Agh. This damn new glue…” Stan muttered as he walked off, apparently going to adjust his…fake eyebrow?

Tony looked at Sally with wide eyes and she explained, “My dad has alopecia.”

“…What?”

“It’s an autoimmune disease where your body attacks your hair follicles.” Tony must’ve still looked confused, because she clarified, “It means he can’t grow hair.” Before Tony could ask, she answered, “No, it’s not contagious.”

Tony let out a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and ran a hand through his hair. His hair was about the only thing he was vain about—he’d blame Angela for that. 

“So, he was wearing a wig?”

“Yes.”

“…So he _voluntarily_ chose that color?”

With a raised eyebrow, Sally said, “That’s the most like Angela you’ve ever sounded.”

“Thanks,” Tony said with a shrug. He didn’t mind being compared to her. He looked over at Sally and, unable to stop himself, asked, “Do you have it?”

“No!” Sally protested immediately, even though her cheeks went a little pink. She shifted her position to one that hid her legs, but Tony didn’t notice. 

“Hey, I believe you. Angie would’ve told me if you had a wig.” Unable to remember if he had warned her or not, Tony automatically added, “Don’t call her that; she’ll kill you."

“Ah. Family nickname?”

“Nope. Tony nickname,” Tony corrected as he looked back on the pages he was checking for typos. “I’m the only one allowed to call her that.”

“Huh. Interesting.” Sally tilted her head and said, “She always said you guys were close. I didn’t realize how much.”

Tony shrugged. “We’re only a year apart and were basically raised like twins.”

“That must’ve been nice,” Sally said. 

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Sally looked at him curiously and, feeling her gaze on him, he looked back at her. “What?” Tony asked.

“Well, now I’m just trying to imagine what it’s like to have siblings.”

Tony shrugged. “Loud.” Sally let out a breath of laughter before getting back to work.

By the time Tony finished his pages, he looked over to find Sally had put on reading glasses. He let out a small laugh and she looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing. Just didn’t expect glasses.”

Sally rolled her eyes. “It’s just for reading. I get a headache if I read too much without them.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “And aren’t you in AP English and history and everything?”

“Yeah?”

“And doesn’t that entail a lot of reading?”

“Yes.”

“So, do you have a headache, like, every day?”

Sally pursed her lips slightly. “…Maybe.” 

“So, why don’t you wear them at school?”

Sally looked at Tony for a moment before rolling her eyes again. “I don’t like how I look in them, okay?”

“Can’t let people think you aren’t perfect, huh?” Tony chuckled and said, “I mean, _I’m_ amazed to find out you aren’t perfect.”

“God, you’re starting to sound like Lindsay."

“There’s a reason we get along,” Tony pointed out.

Though they both laughed for a moment, they soon looked at each other awkwardly. Neither of them particularly wanted to talk about the Lindsay of it any more than they already had—which, for the record, was a _lot._ Sally had brought up the subject several of times over the last few weeks, making it just how clearly she missed Lindsay. Half of their friendship—if you could call it a friendship—seemed to be based on Sally talking about Lindsay.

It was weird.

So, not wanting to get into that subject again, Tony handed her the pages he had been working on. “For your approval.”

Sally took them gladly. “Thank you _so_ much. You’re a lifesaver. Like, I could _kiss_ you right now.”

Tony snorted at the idea. “Yeah, well, you _did_ need someone who actually knows how to spell.”

“Right,” Sally said. “And I _promise_ this was all be worth it, Tony. Seriously. Our yearbooks always look _great._ Your photos will be in such high quality that you’ll _love_ it.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious!” Sally got up and grabbed one of her old yearbooks off a bookcase. She handed it to Tony as she got back on her bed and said, “Here’s the proof.”

Tony took it and sat down on her bed to look at it. The title said it was the 1997 edition—their freshman year.

He flipped through the pages and had to admit that, okay, the pictures looked nice in the glossy pages of the yearbook, even if they were in black and white. He flipped to the freshman pages out of curiosity and smiled when he found Sally. She looked basically the same as she did then, just a bit younger.

And, of course, without glasses.

Underneath her picture, they had a list of all of the activities she was in. He was sure it had to be just her favorites or something, seeing as it somehow managed to fit onto the page without being in a font too small to read.

He looked back up to her awards and then around the room as a thought hit him. Sally didn't have any siblings or a mom. It was just her and her dad. 

God, no wonder she did every activity possible. Even as introverted as he was, Tony was sure he'd get lonely going home to an empty house every night. And no wonder she worked so hard to be perfect and never break a sweat. She was the only kid her father had to put all of his dreams and expectations on.

Wow. That…that explained a lot.

And it kinda made him sad that she had lost the friendship she had with Lindsay. She really could've used someone in her life she was that close to. 

On that subject, he flipped back to find Lindsay under “Bluth”. He saw Michael first and, like Sally, he didn’t look very different, just a bit younger. He still looked just as awkward as he normally did. Like Sally, he had a large list of after-school activities to accompany his picture. But then Tony looked next to him at Lindsay’s photo and couldn’t help but say a quiet, _“Woah.”_

It was obviously Lindsay: the same lips, face, (surgically altered) nose, and light hair. But her hair, however similar, was pulled into a tight, high ponytail. She was smiling so wide it had to hurt, but it didn’t look as genuine as the smaller ones she usually gave—or maybe Tony was projecting. Either way, it was kind of like seeing Lindsay in _The Twilight Zone_ or through the looking glass or something. She was wearing lip gloss and light eyeshadow and a top with spaghetti straps—none of it was what she associated with Lindsay’s style at _all_ anymore. 

No wonder Sally said she liked her style more this past year. He really thought the darker colors and flannel and everything she wore now were a _lot_ more fitting. And it definitely made her stand out. Her old picture looked like basically every other girl in the yearbook.

Tony continued to flip through the pages, eventually finding the cheerleader team pages. There was a team picture, one taken during football season, and Tony could barely reconcile that the girl in there was Lindsay. Not just from the different make-up and the uniform or anything, but even her size. Lindsay was definitely naturally slim, but he could see why Sally said she had always been worried about her.

But when he turned to the last page of the cheerleading spread, he honestly felt his heart twinge.

And he didn’t even think he _had_ a heart.

The page was covered with pictures of various small friend groups, which included an image of Lindsay and Sally, their arms wrapped around each others’ shoulders and beaming at the camera. Both of them looked happier than they had in any of the other pictures, almost like the pictures he had taken of them at the spring dance.

Sally saw where he had stopped and told him, “I like that picture, too.” 

“…Yeah,” Tony said, not sure what else he _could_ say. He finally added, “When was this taken?”

“Summer cheer camp. It was a good summer,” Sally said with a slight smile. After looking at it for a moment, she said, “God, that feels like a lifetime ago…” She looked at it sadly before getting back to editing. 

Tony looked at it for a moment longer before flipping back a few pages. He really wondered how something could have divided them so quickly. But, then again, Lindsay just seemed very different from her freshman self. He definitely got how she hadn’t been close to Gob back then—

Gob, who was definitely in high school that year…

Tony glanced over at Sally to make sure she wasn’t watching before flipping to the senior pictures section. He turned away from her as he found the beginning of the section and, soon enough, he found a picture with the name _Gob Bluth_ underneath it.

“Oh my _god.”_

Wow. There was almost something reassuring about how awkward Gob looked. Even _Gob Bluth_ took a bad yearbook picture, just like every teen boy Tony knew.

…It was almost _endearingly_ bad.

God _damn_ it, he needed _help._

“Oh, now _that’s_ a guy who’s _totally_ changed since then.” Tony jumped at the sudden sound of Sally’s voice and she raised his eyebrows at his over-the-top reaction.

“Uh…right. Yeah, he’s…he seems different now,” Tony said awkwardly. He cleared his throat and looked at the picture again. 

“It probably doesn’t make sense knowing him now—or from looking at that picture—but he was the _total_ heartthrob of the school,” Sally said. Taking Tony’s lack of response as shock, she continued, “I know, weird, right? But he was so charming and had a new girlfriend, like, every week. A _total_ lady killer.”

Okay, that made him snort. _Lady_ killer? 

“But I think any girls’ hearts he breaks now are for very _different_ reasons.” Sally tucked some hair behind her ear and said, “I shouldn’t say _why,_ but—”

“You mean because he’s gay?” Tony asked bluntly.

Sally blinked a few times in shock. “…Well, Lindsay and I _did_ see a guy leave his room one morning after a party. A very _disheveled_ looking guy.” 

Tony hated how much he wanted to be that guy.

"Did he tell you? Like, is he  _out?"_ Sally whispered.

Tony shook his head. "No. Lindsay just told me. And, well, he worships Freddie Mercury and the posters in his room kinda reveal a big love of Tom Cruise, so…" After a moment, he added, "And he turned down Ange, which she considers to be the biggest sign."

Sally laughed. "Fair." She looked at the photo and shook her head. "He's an odd one. But the whole family is, so I guess I can't blame him."

"Yeah…" Again, unable to help himself from being honest, he said, "I can't believe you chose Michael of all of them to have a crush on."

Sally groaned. "I 'chose' him because he's the only acceptable Bluth. At least for me. Romantically speaking. And he's kinda cute in a dorky way."

Without thought, Tony commented, "Gob's cuter."

Once he realized what he said, he felt his face heat up and saw Sally raise an eyebrow at him. "…Are you gay?"

"No!" Before Sally could say anything else, he rolled his eyes and said, "I'm bi, actually. And, unlike Gob, I _am_ out. I just don't tell everyone I meet."

Sally looked at him curiously through her glasses, like he was some experiment she was studying. Tony knew what kind of questions were running through her mind and he held back a sigh, but didn't bother stopping himself from rolling his eyes again. "No, it's not a choice. No, I'm not just gay and denying it. No, I haven't dated a guy or a girl, but, yes, I know I'm bi and I've been out about it for like over a year now." He raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "Did that answer all your questions?"

After a moment, she asked, "How did you figure out that you were bi?"

Tony gave his usual answer. "I guess I knew when Angie forced me to watch _Saved By the Bell._  I had a crush on both Jessie _and_ Zack." And, really, those types seemed to have stayed the same for him: ambitious, stubborn women and suave, charming guys.

"That's it?"

Tony shrugged. "I mean, how did you figure out you were straight?"

Sally looked at Tony for a bit longer and then went back to checking her pages for edits without saying anything in response. 

* * *

Lindsay was relieved when Tony got to come over. She had really missed being around him that she was happy to have him over, even if it was just for a study session. Hey, she _did_ need the help if she wanted to keep that straight C average in math.

Of course, she was still more than ready to take a study break when Tony finally declared that they could have one. Her own head was pounding. “Do you study this hard every finals season?” Lindsay asked, rubbing her forehead. 

“It gets more intense every year, at least for me and Angie. Lizzie’s already started so hard on herself she’ll probably break by the time she’s my age.” Tony frowned slightly. He really _did_ worry about her, even with the dumb jokes thrown his way. He knew she was pushing herself way too hard for freaking middle school finals, even if she was doing a few high school level classes.

“Well, Angela’s gotta be taking it easier this year, right? She’s basically done.”

Tony shook his head. “Nope. For one, she wants to make ma and dad think she’s responsible. For another, she wants that Principal Honors Award cord to wear at graduation, basically just to say ‘suck it’ to all the girls who called her a dumb slut.”

Lindsay laughed quietly. “That’s a pretty good reason.”

Tony agreed. “It’s not her fault that that one girl's boyfriend broke up with her to take Angela to prom,” he said with a shrug. Despite that, the girl and all of her friends had started being extra vicious towards her. While he didn’t get why Angela would want to take that guy specifically to prom when she could have any guy she wanted, well, it was her prerogative and it wasn’t like she told him to ask her or anything.

“So my place is super intense right now. Even the twins are going crazy with how they’re being forced to be quiet—well, Pip’s going crazy over that, so Mike’s going crazy by proxy. Dad’s just as clueless as ever since he’s all about the bakery and ma has huge work stuff. It’s just so much worse than usual.”

“Well, at least it’s gonna end soon,” Lindsay said.

“Yeah…God, I am _so_ ready for summer.”

Lindsay nodded. “Do you have any big plans?”

“Nah,” Tony said. “I plan on taking a break—just hang out with you and stuff.”

“No trips or anything?”

“Nope. Just work and reading and stuff,” Tony said, not noticing how Lindsay started biting on her lip. “I’ve never been much of a big summer person, though.”

“Right. The sun and everything.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yeah. I hate the feeling of the sun hitting my skin. It’s why I had such weird feelings about Jew Camp.”

“Jew Camp?”

He shook his head. “It’s not really called that or anything, my family just like calling it that. It’s basically a summer camp but with only Jewish kids,” Tony said. He shrugged. “I knew a lot of Jewish people growing up—like, pretty much everyone back home is either Jewish or Italian or both, like me—so I didn’t get as much out of it as other kids. It was still kinda cool, though.” After a moment, he muttered, “Better than Camp Grizzly.”

“Camp Grizzly?”

“A dumb, _dumb_ typical summer camp Angie and I went to. It was a last minute thing after Daniel tried to kill himself and our parents wanted us out of the house,” Tony said.

Despite how close they were, Lindsay never knew how to respond when Tony brought that stuff up. She wasn’t Daniel’s biggest fan, but knowing he tried to do that was awful. But then Tony would say it so casually, even though she knew he must have been scared at the time and that he still worried about his brother.

Families were just weird like that, though. She worried about and loved her brothers but still made fun of them all the time.

Lindsay decided to ask, “Was it really _that_ bad or was it just ‘cause your brother had tried to kill himself beforehand?”

Tony thought about it. He eventually decided, “Both. I can still hear the camp song in my nightmares.” He shook his head, trying to get said song to leave his head at the mere thought of the camp. 

“That _does_ sound pretty awful, but I don’t know if that can compete with my worst summer."

“I thought you and Gob got close last summer, though; sounds good to me.”

Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. That’s not my worst summer, though. The worst summer was when my mimi died—my mom’s mom.”

“Oh…Were you guys close?”

Lindsay thought about it. “…No? But also kinda.” She shrugged. “She was really nice to me—and _really_ not nice to my mom.” She couldn’t help but smile at that part. “Anyway, she was visiting us at the beach cottage and she was planning on taking me out on a big cruise vacation…and then she fell down the stairs and died.”

Tony’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected her to have died in her _house_ or something. “Wow…I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. They didn’t make me sing a camp song at least,” Lindsay said with a small laugh. “But, no, last summer definitely wasn’t my worst summer, even with all of…everything. I’m glad I got to hang out with Gob. It’s always been me and Michael paired up all the time. You know, the whole twin thing. But Gob and I think a lot more similarly than me and Michael, so I liked getting the chance to hang out with him for once.” She laughed slightly and said, “And to think it was all because of Gwen Stefani.”

“What?”

Lindsay laughed again. “You know, the lead singer of No Doubt? They’re, like, my favorite current band. Their album _Tragic Kingdom_ has been the most important CD of all time for me. It’s gotten me through _so many_ things. But Gob isn’t the biggest fan of them. And after a few too many plays, he dragged me out of the house and…well, we just started hanging out and the rest is history. Now we’re really close.” She gave Tony a small smirk and nudged him as she added, “Hopefully you’ll get the chance this summer, too.”

Despite the teasing, Tony couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly at that. “Well, I’m sure if we’re hanging out already, joining Gob won’t be that difficult.”

Tony started to reach for something in his backpack and Lindsay held back a sigh. She had to tell him.

She opened her mouth, but Tony, not seeing it, said, “I actually started working on some song lyrics. I don’t know if he remembers talking about writing songs together, but…” He pulled out his journal and, after flipping through a few pages, found one of the things he had written. He normally hesitated showing people what he wrote, especially the more poetic sort of thing, but he knew he could trust Lindsay seeing his work.

Lindsay took the journal cautiously and then looked down at what he had written. She read through it and couldn’t help but smile slightly. It definitely had Tony’s unique voice to it—dark and sarcastic, but not so dark that it completely brought down the mood. She could actually imagine Gob writing some great music to it.

“This is great, Tony,” Lindsay said honestly. She looked back up at him and asked, “Is this it, or can I read another one?”

“Yeah, you can flip through it,” Tony said without thought. He got to work pulling out his history materials, since they’d have to move onto that soon.

He was just reloading his mechanical pencil with more lead when Lindsay asked, “What’s this?” The tone of her voice alone made it clear it wasn’t a good thing.

He looked over at her, unsure of what had made her sound so angry. But then he saw her holding up the picture of Sally he had taken at the spring fling and his heart sank.

 _Fuck._ Tony had totally forgotten he had stored the photo in there.

“…It’s a picture I took at that dance you made me take photos for,” Tony said slowly, trying to remind her the picture only existed because of her insistence, anyways.

Lindsay’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “And who is it a picture of?”

“…Sally.”

“Right,” Lindsay said dangerously quietly. She paused for a moment before asking, “Do you always keep photos of two-faced bitches in your journal? Or is it just because she’s your girlfriend?”

“What! No—Sally’s not my girlfriend! You know that.”

“Do I? Because you’re sure as hell acting like it,” Lindsay said as she got off the bed, the photo still in her hand.  

“I’m not! And that’s not why it was in there!”

“Then why _is_ it in there?”

“Because I like the photo!”

“Exactly—”

“I liked getting a rare moment of her smiling like that—”

_“Exactly!”_

“She was looking at _your_ work! And I liked seeing her appreciating your work and I like candid moments like that, you _know_ that—”

“All I know is that you know there is _one person_ in the whole school that I can’t stand—the _one person_ who _ruined_ my life—and instead of avoiding her, you joined a club, befriended her, and now have her _picture_ in your private _journal?”_ Lindsay threw her hands up in frustration. “Do you not get how _fucked up_ that is?”

Tony took a deep breath. Okay…she had a point. Sally was literally the one person that was obviously off limits and he had known that.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said quietly. “I promise I’m not dating her or anything—”

“Get out.”

“I’m really _not.”_

“No. I mean get out of my house.”

Tony looked up at her in shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me—”

“I’m not. Get out of here. I can’t…I can’t study right now, okay?”

Tony stared at her, sure she would calm down in just a second. But when she turned away from him, he realized she really _wasn’t_ kidding. 

And, god, he was actually a little pissed off. Maybe it was the Italian or New Yorker in him, he didn’t know. He just knew he had to hold back the urge to yell right back. It wasn’t like she had the right to decide who he befriended, and it wasn’t like her life wasn’t _better_ now! They had talked about that _so much!_ She was doing so much better after what Sally had did.

But he knew that Lindsay wasn’t going to listen to reason right then. 

“…Fine.” He put his journal back in his bag along with his history book and zipped it shut. Once it was on his shoulder he almost asked for the photo back before realizing that would just make things worse. And he really _had_ been proud of it, too. So, holding back a sigh, he left her room and closed the door behind him, maybe a bit more forcefully than necessary.

And that was when he realized he had no idea how he was going to get home. If he had biked over, that’d be one thing, but it was a long walk. And it wasn’t like there was another car sitting at home for Angela or someone to get him. The additional car thing kept getting put off.

Well, fuck.

He was about to start heading out the front door when he heard a noise in the kitchen. Tony poked his head in and saw Gob rummaging through the cabinets, a bottle of mustard in his hand.

Not wanting to think about what he was going to do with that, Tony spoke up, “Hey.”

Gob turned around and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, hey, Tony. ‘Sup?”

He truly didn’t know how to answer that. “…Uh, not much.” After a beat, he asked, “Could I possibly get a ride home?”

Gob looked at Tony and then at the mustard in his hand. After a moment of consideration, he shrugged and put down the bottle. “Sure.”

Tony was too distracted by everything that had happened with Lindsay to be nervous around Gob. He was also too distracted to initiate conversation, so Gob apparently decided to take that task himself once they were in the car.

“Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Yeah…yeah, I’ve been busy—”

“Oh, right. Yearbook.” Tony nodded in response. “Gotta say, it doesn’t seem like your kinda thing. It was kinda _my_ thing back in the day. And Lindsay’s, too.” After a moment, he corrected, “It was my thing to _be_ in it.”

That honestly surprised Tony a little. “Did you do a lot of activities or something?”

“Nah, but I was homecoming royalty every year. And Prom King. Oh, and student body president.”

Wait, _what?_ “You did student council?”

“Yeah. My dad taught me all these tricks to help me win. No sweat.”

“But you actually ran the school functions and stuff?”

“Oh, god, no. Michael was in school by then; I got him to do most of that shit,” Gob said with a laugh. “Most of it’s pretty lame, really. And senior year was a busy one anyways. Auditions and stuff.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. Juilliard and everything.” Gob nodded and Tony briefly imagined New York. He still didn’t understand how Gob could’ve turned it down. He really wished he was there right then.

It had been a while since he had felt that, too, he realized. He always missed New York, but he had actually been okay with California for the last several months.

God, he had been _enjoying_ California.

 _Jesus Christ,_ he was actually _happy_ in fucking _California._

But he knew that was all because of Lindsay. And now that was falling apart and he had no idea _why._  

Well, he knew _why,_ but he thought it was so freaking _stupid_ that it was happening. Yeah, he knew he’d been busy, but they were about to have a whole summer together of just doing whatever the fuck they wanted! Yeah, he had befriended Sally, but it wasn't like he was choosing to spend time with her over Lindsay—he just  _had_ to for yearbook! Why was Lindsay so  _weird_ about it? Didn't she get that he was  _her_ friend first and foremost? 

“…Has Lindsay been acting weird lately?” Tony asked Gob. “Or is it just me?”

Gob thought about it. “I don’t know. She’s a little weird, I guess, yeah.” He shrugged. “Lindsay…she’s an extrovent, you know? She needs to be around people.”

Tony blinked a few times. “You mean extrovert?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Gob said. “She’s a social butterfly. So, I think this year has been a little hard, ‘cause she’s not around people as much.” He paused at a stop sign and said, “I get it, you know. Being alone too long messes with my mind. Makes me think too much. Makes me wonder how I ended up in my 20s still in my parents’ house with barely any money to my name, just whoring out my music to a bunch of people who need noise to fill in the silence of their conversations they aren’t interesting enough to fill. Conversations they have just so they don’t have to be alone…”

Tony yet again blinked a few times, really not sure what to say to that. Finally, he settled on, “Uh, I think your music does more than that.”

That seemed to snap Gob out of it. He cleared his throat and said, “Uh, thanks.” 

He continued down the street and Tony said, “…Well, you know, I kinda like alone time. I guess I’m an introvert. Sometimes it’s good to have time away from people to think. Or to write—I do my best writing alone.”

“Yeah. I guess I do, too.”

Seeing his chance to test the waters, Tony casually said, “You know, I’ve actually worked a bit on some songs—lyrics, I mean. Since, I don’t know if you remember, but we talked about—”

“Oh, shit, right! You writing some lyrics for me, yeah?” Gob smiled, officially out of the introspective moment he had. “Sweet! Can I see them?”

“I think once summer starts, yeah. That’d be great.”

Gob nodded and smiled as he parked in front of Tony’s house. “Sweet. Can’t wait.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Tony said. Even though that seemed to be the end of the conversation, Tony hesitated about getting out of the car.

After a moment, Gob said, “Lindsay’ll be fine. Sally’s a weird thing for her that I don’t really get. Like, I know shit about what happened throughout their whole friendship. But she knows you’re her friend.”

Tony nodded. “Thanks, Gob.”

With that, he got out of the car and hoped against all hope that the guy who had just been planning on eating plain mustard was right about this.

* * *

“Hey.”

Tony turned around and found Lindsay. “Hey,” he said softly. He closed his locker and looked at her slightly nervously, a little worried she’d yell at him again. 

After a moment, she sighed dramatically and said, “I’m sorry about freaking out. I was…things are stressful right now. And…and I was worried you would…” Lindsay sighed again and looked to Tony. “I’m sorry.”

Tony looked at Lindsay and nodded. “It’s fine.”

Lindsay shook her head. “It’s really not, I just…”  She looked around them for a moment to make sure no one was listening—like anyone actually gossiped about her anymore—before looking back to Tony. “I’m okay with you hanging out with her and stuff. You know, I can’t stop that, and I know…it would be stupid of me to stop you from being her friend. I just, I saw that picture and…you’ve never…?" She hesitated before asking, "Are you interested in her? Like, as more than a friend?”

Tony shook his head. “I’m really not.” And he was pretty sure about that.

“So you haven’t, like…made out or anything?”

_“Come on!”_

“I know, I’m sorry! I—”

“Linds, can you imagine me making out with anyone? _Ever?”_ Tony asked genuinely, raising his eyebrows and gesturing to himself.

Lindsay laughed slightly, but shook her head. “You shouldn’t be so mean to my best friend,” she said before ruffling his hair good-naturedly. 

Tony playfully slapped her hand away before laughing with her. And, with that, the two of them headed down the hallway to homeroom. Unlike the past week or so, with finals pressure weighing down on most everyone, the room was rather lively as yearbooks were finally handed out.

Tony flipped through the glossy pages of the final product and figured that, okay, maybe he felt some _slight_ sense of pride when he saw his pictures. It was cool to be published anywhere, even if it was just in his high school’s dumb yearbook.

He turned to Lindsay as their classmates started getting their friends to sign their yearbooks. She landed on the pictures of the spring fling dance and smiled as she looked over the work she had done.

“If you ever want the originals for your college applications or other applications or whatever, let me know. I still have them,” Tony told her.

Lindsay’s eyes darted away almost _guiltily_ for a moment, but she smiled at him and said, “Sounds good.”

“You should read the description of it, too,” Tony said, pointing at the little blurb about the dance.

_Balboa High School’s annual Spring Fling of 1999 was planned by a dance committee led by senior Angela Wunderlich. The students and guests in attendance danced the night away to songs provided by DJ Chuck, had delicious sweets from the local bakery Wunder-Ful Bread, and enjoyed original and unique decorations provided by a student artist, junior Lindsay Bluth. Many students and faculty specifically enjoyed the decorations and made sure to take pictures and explore the art work, all of which was dedicated to the memory of impressionist artist Jackson Pollock. This was Lindsay’s first time decorating for a school dance, but we all hope it’s not the last!_

_-Sally Sitwell, Co-Editor in Chief_

Lindsay was so pleased at the mention that she didn’t even frown when she read that Sally had written it. Well, at least not at first. Lindsay frowned a moment later and looked to Tony. “How genuine was this response from her?”

“I helped her with a few details, like the name of the bakery, but she chose to focus on your decorations and how much everyone liked them.”

Lindsay bit her lip in thought. After a long moment, she asked, “And that picture you took…that was her looking at my decorations? At my art?”

Tony nodded. “That was part of why I liked it so much.” 

Again, Lindsay bit her lip and looked thoughtful, crossing her arms. 

“You know,” Tony said slowly, “I’m not sure you can really call me and Sally friends. It’s hard to say we’re friends when so many of our conversations end up devolving into how she misses you.”

Lindsay didn’t respond for a while. Finally, the corners of her lips turned up slightly and she said, “Well, I can’t help that I’m so much fun to talk about. People are naturally obsessed with me.”

“It’s why you’ll be the next big named artist in this world,” Tony agreed.

Lindsay laughed slightly but didn’t say anything else on the subject. Instead, she closed her yearbook and looked at Tony. “So, do we do the whole signing yearbooks thing or nah?”

“Well, my only signatures would be yours and Angie's and maybe some yearbook people.”

“And mine would just be yours and Michael’s and maybe some other art kids.” She ended up laughing and said, “I think we’ll pass on the HAGS and HATS stuff, then.”

“What?”

Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never signed a yearbook before, have you?”

“Again, could you imagine me doing that _ever?”_

“Good point this time,” Lindsay said. The bell rang to end homeroom and the two got up. “Anyways,” Lindsay started to explain, “those are acronyms people use a lot. HAGS—Have a Great Summer. HATS is the same thing, but ‘terrific’ instead of ‘great.’ People used to sign that way all the time back in middle school. Those yearbooks are _full_ of HAGS and HATS. Like, so many HATS I could be on _Blossom.”_

“Nice old school reference.”

“I do what I can.” After a moment, she asked, “So, wanna try another study session after school? I promise not to freak out this time.”

“I can’t tonight,” Tony said. He rolled his eyes and explained, “There’s some yearbook staff party and my ma caught wind of it and now I have to go.” 

Lindsay made a sympathetic noise. “Bummer. Try to have fun.”

“Eh, it’s not worth the effort to try. At least it’s not one of those dumb banquets where they give out awards and stuff like for sports. I remember going to one of Daniel’s back when he was in high school and on the soccer team. One of the most boring nights of my life.”

Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “Daniel played soccer?”

“Yep,” Tony said simply. “Probably could’ve gotten some college scholarships if he had applied.” After a moment, he added, “And if he hadn’t tried to kill himself. Colleges are a little wary about taking the mentally ill.”

Lindsay made a face and nodded. “Makes sense.”

* * *

While the yearbook party wasn’t a banquet, it was still pretty stupid from Tony’s perspective. It was just some lame gathering at a pizza place.

Well, okay, the pizza was good. Or at least good for California, since no pizza could beat the pizza in New York. As Tony told Sally repeatedly that night.

"You know, I've  _been_ to New York and the pizza's fine—"

"You obviously haven't been if you think it's only 'fine'."

Sally laughed. "Okay, okay, it's _great._ _Fantastic._ The best thing I've ever tasted."

 _"That's_ more like it."

"But there's no point focusing on what you don't have right now. Look on the bright side and enjoy the fact that someone else is paying for your pizza."

Tony thought about it. "Fair point."

"Yeah, just think of your soda as being half-full," Sally said.

Tony looked at his. "I'd still say it's half-empty."

"Damn. Worth a shot."

"But the half that's left looks delicious," Tony said.

"And there's free refills."

"Oh, good point." 

Once Tony got his refilled, Sally said, "But, seriously, remaining positive is the only way you can make it through these things. They're  _extremely_ boring."

"I thought this would be your jam," Tony said with a frown.

Sally shook her head. "I like smaller group settings better. There's too much chatter when it's like this. And small talk—I  _hate_ small talk."

"Same." After a moment, he suggested, "You know, we can leave whenever we want—or at least you can, because you have a car. And I could always call my parents or something."

"True," Sally said. "But I feel obligated to stay. You know, since I'm Editor-in-Chief."

 _"Co-_ Editor-in-Chief," Tony corrected her.

"Shut up."

Tony laughed and dug into another slice of pizza. He might as well eat as much as he could since it was free.

And, weirdly enough, he didn't have the worst time ever. It at least beat studying for his finals, which was all he had been doing for what felt like _weeks._  God, he couldn't wait until the next week. Then it would be three days of finals and then, exactly a week from the dumb yearbook party, he'd be _free._ He'd have a whole summer of hanging out with Lindsay and writing songs with Gob—and, yeah, work, but still.

And, okay, maybe extra work seeing as he would turn 18 over break and therefore be legal to work more hours, but still. It was a better summer plan than his past summers.

Anyways, he ended up staying out fairly late. His parents were, of course, very open to expanding his curfew when it involved him actually having friends, so he figured he'd embrace that. And he also was having fun talking with Sally—even if he felt a little guilty for doing so given the whole Lindsay thing. But, hey, it was just them being friends. It wasn't like they were doing anything Lindsay had asked about earlier that day.

Finally, once one the food was paid for and most everyone else had split, Sally volunteered to take Tony home.

"I've picked up Angela a few times, but you might need to direct me there," Sally told him as they got in her car. "I'm not the best with directions."

And it turned out Tony really  _did_ have to help guide her to his house. Like, she really had no idea where she was going. It was actually kind of funny, especially when she perfectly parallel parked in front of his house with no problems despite how she almost got on the highway in the opposite direction of his house.

"Man, you really  _aren't_ perfect, are you?"

Sally smiled despite herself. "You can't let anyone else know. I don't want to ruin my reputation."

"Of course," Tony replied. 

"Good thing New York City's a grid system. I should be able to guide myself around there just fine," Sally said.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You want to go to New York?"

"Possibly, yes, at least for college," Sally said. "If I get a good scholarship to USC or UCLA or something I'll stay, but I'd like to go somewhere farther and get a different kind of experience."

"Where are you looking in New York?"

"My absolute first choice is Columbia".

"Ah. Makes sense. New York City  _and_ an Ivy. Sounds perfect for you," Tony said.

"I thought so." She looked at him expectedly and asked, "What about you? You want to get back there, right?"

"Definitely," Tony agreed. "My first choice is NYU—I think I want to study writing, but there are a million other majors there I can change to if I don't like it." Sally nodded "What about you? Economics or business or something?"

Sally hesitated. "I'm actually thinking pre-law? I mean, I could do real-estate law if I really wanted to work for my dad still." Tony nodded; that made sense. "…But I really think I'd like to do something with the environment? Or something with women's rights."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Wow…"

Sally nodded. "Yeah…I haven't talked to my dad about it yet. I'm not sure how he'll feel about it."

"Well, it's your life. You should get to do what you want."

Sally scoffed. "You'd think. But when you're the only child and your father owns a family business…it's not really up to me."

After a moment, Tony sighed. "I get it. I mean, my oldest siblings had basically no choice but to go into the family business. And I literally have no choice but to work there. Even if I had an interest in another job, I'd never be allowed to consider another option."

There was a small silence before Sally turned to him. "You know, it's been a long time since I've had someone understand me on anything like that." She paused before explaining, "Like, Michael  _wants_ to take over his family business, you know. He likes this sort of thing. And no one else I know has any sort of family business." After another moment, she added, "Not to bring it up again, but, I mean, Lindsay was the only one who really got it. Not wanting to do what her parents expected—she wants more than whatever domestic life her mom expects her to take up."

Tony nodded. "Yeah. I know." 

"It really hasn't been something I've been able to talk about since her," she said, looking at Tony in a weird way.

"…Well, yeah, I guess we have that in common," Tony said, not sure what else to say.

Sally nodded. "Yeah…yeah, we do…it's nice not to be alone." Tony nodded; it actually was nice to know someone else who knew what that was like outside of his family.

After another moment, Sally said, "It's been really nice to be able to talk to you in yearbook and everything." She gave him a half-smile and said, "Maybe we'll be able to talk some more in the fall? If Lindsay doesn't kill me for trying."

Tony let out a small, if awkward, laugh. "Yeah. Hopefully…" Tony looked over at her, suddenly very aware that they were rather close. Her car wasn't very large, after all. "I guess there's always yearbook. I've been enjoying the bribing aspects—and, yeah, you were right, seeing my pictures printed like that was nice."

"I _do_ have a tendency to be right," Sally said with a small smirk.

"Funnily enough, you do," Tony admitted it. 

And suddenly Sally’s lips were on his.

Tony froze for a second. He had, like, _zero_ kissing experience, and this was _Sally,_ two facts that made him sure he should pull away.

He _had_ to.

But then his lips were moving against hers and it actually felt really, really nice and she had been wearing less of that perfume she used to be drowning in and the faint smell of it was actually kinda nice, and her lips were soft, and—

And it was his _best friend’s least favorite person ever._

Tony finally pulled himself away and he and Sally stared at each other. Even Sally looked surprised and not too happy with what had happened.

Sally turned back in her seat to look in front of her. “I’m…I’m sorry, I don’t know…I don't know why I did that. I really don't.”

“…I’ve gotta go,” Tony said suddenly, unbuckling his seatbelt. He quickly got out of the car and ran back to his house, not stopping until the front door was closed and locked behind him.

In the dark of the house, he ran his hands through his hair and then down over his face, his right hand stopping over his lips.

_“…Shit.”_

* * *

Tony had no idea when he managed to fall asleep that night. All he knew was that he had never felt so guilty. Sally may have made the move, but Tony had _continued_ the move. He _kept_ kissing her instead of stopping her right away. He had betrayed Lindsay in the worst way possible. He had really royally fucked up.

His alarm seemed to go off earlier than usual, but Tony still dragged himself out of bed and did his morning routine. Chiara came by to take the twins to elementary school early. Dad was, of course, already at work with Daniel. So it was just him, Lizzie, and Angela in the kitchen by the time he sat down.

But, wait, someone was missing. Someone he really wanted to talk to. Someone who had proven not to have a bias about this sort of situation.

“Where’s ma?” Tony asked.

Angela and Lizzie both actually looked up from their books and raised their eyebrows at him. “Ma?” Lizzie asked.

“Yeah. I need to talk to her."

That just made their eyebrows raise even further. 

When he didn’t elaborate, Lizzie dismissively said. “Good luck with that. She’s basically working twelve-hour days at that job of hers—at _least."_

“Yeah. Whatever job that is,” Angela added. Again, none of them really understood it.

Tony didn’t even nod, his eyes staring into the space in front of him with a conflicted expression.

“…Tonio?” Angela asked. He looked at her and she softly asked, “Is everything okay?”

Tony opened his mouth to say something, but Lizzie loudly said, “Could you guys have your heart-to-heart somewhere else? _Some_ of us are trying to _study.”_

Angela shot her little sister a glare before turning back to Tony. But he was already packing up his books as he said, “I’m heading to school.”

Angela looked confused. “But don’t you want breakfast—”

“Later,” Tony said, heading out the door without another word.

* * *

Almost as soon as Lindsay sat down next to Tony in homeroom, she asked, “So, how was the big yearbook party? Worth missing a study session with me?” She wore a teasing smile that just made Tony feel even worse. 

“It was fine. Not worth missing a study session, though,” Tony answered honestly, unable to look her in the eye as he responded. He had his history textbook open, since he had been trying to make himself study, but his eyes were unfocused and he couldn’t make himself read any of it.

“Huh. You’re _really_ worried about these finals, aren’t ya?” Lindsay asked, actually sounding concerned about her friend’s behavior.

“Y-yeah. You know, things like this can affect your whole life for, like, ever. Could ruin everything in a single moment of bad judgment and dumb decisions.”

Lindsay raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think getting, like, one question wrong on Mr. D’s test will ruin your whole life, Tony.” 

Every time he saw Lindsay for the rest of the day, Tony felt _awful._ He knew he had to tell her what happened—right? It’s not like it meant anything—it didn’t mean anything to _him,_ at least. He was sure of it. He wasn’t interested in Sally. Like, yeah, she wasn’t the worst to talk to and like, the kiss was _good,_ or at least it felt good to someone who had never been kissed, but that was hardly the grounds of anything big to him. Like, he didn’t want to date her or anything. He really, truly wasn’t into her that way. So, maybe telling Lindsay would just make things worse. It would just hurt her and make her think he’d been lying about how he felt about Sally and everything.

But, of course, Tony knew better than that. He knew he couldn’t just lie about it. He knew that he had to be honest with Lindsay. He knew she deserved to know and it was better for her to find out from him than anyone else.

So, once the final bell rang, Tony went to the art classroom. Lindsay’s last class was her independent study and she normally got so invested in her own world that she wouldn’t hear the bell.

And, in fact, she seemed to have just started cleaning up her workspace when Tony got there. “Hey,” Tony said.

“Hey,” Lindsay said absent-mindedly as she focused on cleaning out her paintbrushes.

“Where’s Ms. Defoe?”

“Out sick,” Lindsay said. “And the sub already headed out.”

“Ah.”

“So it’s just the two of us.”

“Right.”

“So, maybe you’ll feel comfortable telling me why you’ve been acting weird all day?” Lindsay said as she turned her head over her shoulder to look at Tony expectantly. 

Tony bit his lips before nodding. 

Lindsay finished washing out her last brush and then laid it out to dry before turning to Tony. “So. What’s going on?”

Tony didn’t know how to put it. He wanted to make it sound like it wasn’t as bad as it was. He wanted to cushion the blow somehow. But being less than blunt wasn’t his forte. Sure, he could write well, but he only wrote honest things about what he felt, what he saw, what the world was like through his eyes. He didn’t know how to soften blows.

So, he started with, “At the party last night, I…Sally drove me home.”

“…And?”

Wanting to get it over with, Tony rushed out, “I kissed her.”

Lindsay froze. “…What?”

“I kissed—well, she kissed _me._ But…but I kissed her back—but I pulled away and stopped it and—and I don’t know, I’ve never been kissed before, I didn’t really understand what was happening and—”

“You _kissed_ her?” Lindsay asked, her voice soft in a way that made Tony’s chest feel tight.

“…I guess, yeah.”

After a short but painful pause, Lindsay let out a breath of humorless, upset laughter. “You know, yesterday you told me you weren’t interested in her that way and that you hadn’t made out, and less than twelve hours later, you were proving yourself wrong on both counts, huh?”

“Lindsay, I—I don’t know if you can really call it a make-out. I mean, I know nothing about kissing, but that still doesn’t seem like the right word—”

“So? How was it?” Lindsay asked as she crossed her arms. “Was it everything you hoped it would be? Her…her soft lips and lip gloss and perfume and everything? I’m sure you’ve been thinking about it for _months_ now.”

“Lindsay, I’m sorry—”

“Come on, Tony. Tell me the truth. Was it good?”

Tony looked at her for a while, trying to figure out if she really wanted the truth or not. Finally, he said, “I have nothing to compare it to, but it…it felt nice, yeah.”

With a noise of disgust, Lindsay looked down to the floor, unable to even look at Tony. “Of course. She’s great at everything, right?” She made another small noise and something that sounded like a sniff and Tony felt even worse than before.

“Lindsay, it’s not like I’m going to date her or anything,” Tony said. Lindsay still didn’t look at him, her arms crossed and an upset look on her face. “You know I’d never do that to you, right? I’m not going to ask her out or…or even let what happened happen again.”

Lindsay still wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were focused on the floor, looking like she was processing everything. Finally, her gaze still on the ground, she quietly said, “Maybe you should.”

“What?”

Irritated, Lindsay crisply stated, “Maybe you _should_ date her or ask her out. Fuck her for all I care.” She looked back up at him, and, god, did Tony wish she hadn’t. Her facial expression was a mixture of grief and pain and downright _fury._ “She’s taken everything else I thought was important to me: my cheering title, my old friends, my popularity, and she couldn’t get my twin, so she got my best friend instead.”

“Lindsay, I’m _not_ interested in her in that way—”

“Yeah, _right,”_ Lindsay said, shaking her head and looking away from him again. “You…” Lindsay swallowed and tried to collect herself, “I know you think she’s pretty. And…and why wouldn’t you? She is. She’s smart and driven and all of these things. She’s Little Miss Perfect. Who _wouldn’t_ be interested in her like that?” 

“Lindsay…Lindsay, I don’t—”

“Just leave, okay?” Lindsay asked, still not looking at him. “I…I really need to be alone right now.” 

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but he could tell Lindsay was close to fully breaking down. And as close as they were, Lindsay didn’t like crying in front of people—unless she was trying to manipulate her dad, of course—and Tony wasn’t sure how he could handle that.

So, Tony closed his mouth and nodded. “Okay,” he said quietly. Lindsay nodded in acknowledgment, still looking in the opposite direction of him as he walked silently to the door.

He paused in the doorway, not sure what to say. Finally, he settled on, “I’ll see you soon?”

Lindsay looked over at him again. “I don’t know.”

* * *

Lindsay had no idea how long she stood in the art room for. It was hard to keep time straight while her heart was racing and her brain lagged behind, unable to figure out what she was supposed to do next. Finally, she finished putting away her art supplies, wiped under her eyes, and grabbed her stuff. She marched out of the school, soon all but running to her car. Her body seemed to work on autopilot as she drove down a path that, while one she hadn’t used for a while, was still seared into her memory.

When she got to the house, Lindsay both knocked and rang the the doorbell, impatiently waiting for a response. Fortunately—or unfortunately depending on how you looked at it—Sally answered soon enough. 

Sally looked surprised to see Lindsay there. “Oh, hi—”

“‘Oh, hi’?” Lindsay mocked. She let out a humorless laugh and asked her, “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

“What—”

“Tony told me what you did,” Lindsay said through a tight jaw. Sally’s eyes widened slightly. “How _could_ you?” 

“Lindsay, I’m sorry,” Sally said, actually genuinely looking sorry. 

“How could _he?”_

“Don’t blame him—”

“Shut up, Sally! Just shut up and listen to me for fucking _once!”_

There was a long silence and Lindsay realized, oh, wow, Sally really _had_ stopped talking. 

…Which meant _she_ had to talk now. Or else they'd just stand there in silence.

After a moment, Lindsay said, “And let me in, because I’m not doing this in a doorway.”

Again, Sally listened and let her in, closing the door behind her. Lindsay looked in the entrance hall, full of pictures of her and her dad doing all sorts of charity and family shit together. So _happy_ and _wholesome._ It was hard to believe someone in those pictures would hurt her so much.

Lindsay turned sharply back to Sally. “You know, I thought it was bad enough that you’d tell the coach what I did—something that I was so _ashamed_ of myself. I thought it was bad enough that you’d try to _Single White Female_ me—from the high pony to the cheer captain title to…to everything that made me _me._ You tried to take Michael, too, and pull him to your fucking side. And then when I finally find someone who I could be close to, someone who listened to me like I _thought_ you did…” Lindsay’s voice cracked slightly and she took a moment to breathe through the pain, to try to calm down even just a _little._ “I finally found someone who felt as much as a misfit as I did, so you just _had_ to fucking try to steal _him,_ too.”

Sally took a breath herself. “Lindsay…I could never steal Tony from you. Half of what we ever talked about was you and-and even how I _missed_ you—”

“So, that’s how you show you miss me? By kissing my _best friend?”_  

“It’s not like I was thinking about that—”

“What _were_ you thinking, then?”

“I don’t know!” Sally exclaimed. “Lindsay, I’m a teenager, too, okay? I don’t always think things through and I don’t always know why I do what I do or why I _feel_ the way I feel. And I did something stupid and dumb and…and I don’t know _why.”_

“Bullshit, Sally. You’re so fucking…god, you just couldn’t stand that I was _happy._ Apparently you just can’t let me be happy. You have to take everything away from me—”

“Lindsay, that’s not true,” Sally said so firmly that Lindsay actually stopped ranting. Sally looked at her seriously and said, “I know you think I told the coach just to get you kicked off, but that wasn’t true. I did what I did because I was scared. I was _terrified_ of what you were doing to yourself and how self-destructive you were being. You weren’t even Lindsay anymore; you were some weird, watered down version trying to please everyone.”

Lindsay crossed her arms, glaring at Sally. “How can you even claim to know the real me? You barely talked to me that whole school year,” Lindsay said, her voice dangerously quiet. “How can you say you miss me when you’ve done nothing to try to talk to me since?”

“You refused to talk to me after it happened; why would things have changed this year?” 

“Well, now you got what you wanted. So, talk!” Lindsay jeered. “Let’s hear what you have to say!”

Sally bit her lip and nodded. After a moment, she sighed and said, “Lindsay…I’m really sorry that I hurt you. But…but you weren’t listening to me—”

“Why would I listen to someone who had barely given me the time of day for months?”

“…That’s fair. It really is. But I couldn’t think of another way to get you to stop. And, yes, it was rash and not my best move, but I can’t regret it when you’re so much healthier now. _And_ happier. Because you can’t deny that you’ve been happier this past year than you’ve been since high school started.”

Lindsay watched Sally carefully, her jaw tight. But she eventually nodded. “Yeah. I _have_ been happier. At least I _was_ happier.” She shook her head quickly. “Then you had to come in and swoop on the _one_ friend I had—” Lindsay let out a noise of frustration. “I just don’t get why you would kiss him. Like, why was that your move if you've missed me so much? If you only care about my well being? What did you expect? That, like, Tony and I would _bond_ over how you were both of our first kisses or something?”

Sally looked down at her feet, her arms crossed. “I thought those kisses didn’t count.”

“They don’t,” Lindsay said automatically. Because they _didn’t._ It was just for practice, just something girls did in middle school and early high school to prepare for the real thing with boys. It wasn’t like they meant anything. 

That was the real difference of the kiss Tony and Sally shared. It meant something, whether either party would admit it. And that made her all the more upset.

Lindsay stared at Sally until the other girl looked up at her, their eyes locking. Lindsay swallowed and said, “That doesn’t even matter. What matters is that…that we were always competitive, but you took it too fucking far. And I left this whole fight behind, because I couldn’t even compete anymore, because I had _nothing,_ Sally. I had _nothing_ left when you took away everything I had. And then when I finally got things again—I got art and Tony and things were finally looking up for me again, you just fucking swooped in and started taking an art class and now you want to date Tony—”

“I did photography for yearbook and only for yearbook. And I don’t want to date Tony!” Sally exclaimed immediately. “I know how anti-social he is—”

“Hey, he’s alright; give him a chance.”

Sally blinked at her in confusion. “What are you talking about? Do you _want_ me to date him?”

“No! I just…I don’t want you insulting my best friend, either,” Lindsay said. She deflated slightly and muttered, “Or maybe former best friend now.”

Sally took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to insult him. I just don’t think we’re meant to date and I don’t _want_ to date him. I don’t think he wants to, either. We really just got swept away, I guess. It’s not…it didn’t mean anything.” Sally paused before saying, “It meant as much as _our_ kisses did. Just…just practice.”

Lindsay looked off to the side, unable to keep looking at Sally as she crossed her arms. Those words caused a stabbing pain in her chest and her eyes started to sting. “…How could he?” Lindsay asked herself again softly.

“It was all my fault, Lindsay,” Sally admitted quietly. “I…I initiated it. You shouldn’t consider him your former best friend just because of what _I_ did.” After a beat, she added, “I already ruined one best friendship; I don’t want to ruin another one. Especially not one that I’ve seen help you so much.” 

God, Lindsay almost had to laugh. “You _did_ always think you knew what was best for me. Guess that hasn’t changed.”

Lindsay turned and headed for the door, completely done with the conversation. But she paused with her handle on the door knob as Sally spoke again. “Lindsay!” Lindsay turned her head over her shoulder to look at her. “…While I have you here, I’ve been wanting to tell you that I like seeing you do art. You’re good at it. And…and you really _are_ looking better this year. Health-wise and style and everything.”

Lindsay stared at her for a while before her eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t know why you’re messing with me right now.”

“I’m not messing with you. I just wanted to tell you that while you were actually listening to me.” Lindsay scoffed. “I really _do_ care about you, Lindsay,” Sally said, the tone of her voice serious in a way that made Lindsay’s stomach feel funny.

The two of them looked at each other for a long time before Lindsay, swallowing audibly, opened the door and left, feeling even more mixed up and confused than ever.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Angela asked in a whisper as Lizzie studied and the twins read. “You’re acting a lot bitchier than usual. I’d assume it’s your time of the month, but I’m pretty sure we’re synched at this point, so that can’t be it.”

 _“Funny,”_ Tony said humorlessly.

 _“I_ thought so,” Angela said with a shrug. “But, seriously, what’s wrong? You've been sulking ever since you got home and even throughout dinner."

"Don't you have finals to study for?" Tony asked her sharply.

Angela gave him a look. "You know I can pause studying for whatever's bugging you."

"The only thing bugging me right now is  _you."_

Angela's eyes narrowed, even if that response just proved that something was undeniably wrong.

Now it was known in the Wunderlich family that Tony wasn’t a crier. He hadn’t cried—at least not in front of anyone else—since his grandfather died. That had been the grandfather he’d been named after, so he had, naturally, spoiled him rotten. Tony loved him for more than that, of course, but they had always had a special relationship. A relationship that made him feel special in a family that was so easy to get lost in.

But, again, he barely cried and hadn’t cried since. And part of why he hadn’t cried since because crying wasn’t how his emotions got the best of him. No, what got the best of him was the combination of his mom’s Italian, hot-headed genes and the scrappy little New Yorker inside of him who would never back down from a fucking challenge, no matter how long he lived in California.

However, Angela knew there was no way to force him to talk, either. Not when he got like  _this._ So, she rolled her eyes and went back to studying as Tony did the same.

Well, he at least had his book open. He felt too many different things to actually do more than stare at his book, not reading any of it.

It was why he felt a sense of relief when he heard the garage door open. That meant his mom was finally home. He felt a sense of hope at that; he really  _did_ need to talk to someone, but he knew Angela wasn't the right person in this situation. She had her own biases and she would be thrilled to think of him having a girlfriend or something.

"Hey, ma," Angela called out as she made her way to the kitchen. She also wanted a study break. "How was work?"

"Oh, it was fine." She definitely didn't  _look_ fine. She looked tired—and Tony couldn't blame her. Not when, given the time it was, she definitely  _had_ put in _over_ a twelve-hour shift. God, he hoped she got paid overtime.

"Do you want me to heat up some leftovers?" Angela asked.

"No, no, I'm fine," Giulia said, grabbing the food herself and sticking it in the microwave. She turned to Angela and asked, "Did you get that check to the school for the graduation robes?"

"Yes. I have it hanging up in my room right now."

"Great, great…I can iron it this weekend—"

"Ma, it's fine. I know how to iron."

"Honey, I can do it—"

"Ma, seriously. Let me do this one thing at least, okay?" Angela asked. Giulia started to speak again and Angela pointed out, "I'm eighteen, ma. I can iron my own graduation robe—and you know you'd let Chiara do the same thing. I'm just as responsible as her."

Tony opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Lizzie said, "If you really want to do something, ma, you said you'd take me shopping for a new outfit for the eigth grade farewell."

"Of course," Giulia said.

The microwave beeped, but before she could grab her food, Pip said, "Ma, can you give Mikey and I money for lunch tomorrow?"

"You mean 'Mikey and me,'" Lizzie corrected.

Pip stuck her tongue out at her while Giulia asked, "You don't want your jelly sandwich, Pippa?"

Pip shook her head. "It's pizza day tomorrow! They're bringing in actual pizza from an actual pizza place!"

"You know any pizza here isn't as good as the stuff back in Long Island, right?" Lizzie told her.

"It's still pizza!" Pip said excitedly. 

"Sure, honey," Giulia sighed, going over to her purse. 

The microwave beeped again to remind her that her food was waiting.

As she riffled through her purse, Tony started, "Ma—"

"Oh!" Angela interrupted. "If you're going shopping with Lizzie, can I come, too? I could use new shoes for my graduation ceremony."

"Don't you have enough shoes?" Lizzie asked.

Tony tried again, "Ma—"

"Lizzie, you can  _never_ have enough shoes. It's something you'll learn when you're older."

 _"Ma!"_ Pip whined as she waited for her to pull out the money.

"Just a second, Pippa," Giulia said as patiently as possible. 

"So, can I go shopping with you, ma?" Angela asked.

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," Giulia said with a slight sigh. 

"Great! And I'll make sure Lizzie chooses a good outfit."

"Hey, I can wear whatever I want!" 

As they started to bicker, Tony felt his agitation and impatience rise. Why wasn't he allowed two seconds to ask his mom for help?

"Here, Pippa," Giulia said as she finally found a twenty. "Put that in your backpack now before you forget."

"I'll have Mikey put it in his," Pip said brightly.

"Good idea," Giulia agreed.

"I thought so," Pip said smugly before running off with Mike to safely store the money.

 _"Ma!_ Tell Angela I know how to dress myself!" Lizzie called out.

Angela said, "Ma, I told her she can, I just want to help her look more  _mature—"_

"I don't want to look like _your_ kind of mature!"

"You know, just because Daniel isn't here doesn't mean you get to say that sort of thing about me!"

"You two, stop fighting!" Giulia said loudly.

Tony started again, "Ma—"

The microwave beeped again.

"Can this wait, Tony?" Giulia asked tiredly.

Under normal circumstances, he would've understood. He would've been able to put off any other conversation until she at least got to finally eat her food. But he was dealing with a _lot._ Like, a  _lot_ a lot. And he had tried being patient and he had waited for his siblings to get to her first and he was  _sick_ of getting ignored and  _sick_ of being the fucking middle child. Just because he wasn't in elementary school or having some graduation ceremony didn't mean he didn't deserve _something._

But, fine. His mom didn't have time to talk? Fine.  _She_ was the one who said to come to her when he had problems, but apparently his problems just weren't as important.

Tony slammed his book into his backpack. _"Fine,"_ he said tensely. "Should I call your assistant to set up an appointment or can I expect you to pencil me in for five minutes sometime next month?"

Giulia's eyes narrowed slightly. "Now, Tony—"

"No, it's fine, ma. Obviously what I was going to say can't be more important than a new graduation dress or pizza money," he said sarcastically.

"Tony—"

"I'm going to bed," Tony said crossly, getting up and putting his backpack on his shoulder. "And don't bother making me a lunch, okay? I'll just use my own money to get something inedible at school. You don't have to waste your time on me anymore."

"Antonio—"

_"Goodnight."_

With that, Tony left and refused to turn around as his mom tried to call for him one more time.

Angela and Lizzie shared a look. Even Lizzie looked concerned at that; she knew as well as Angela that meant something really _had_ to be bugging him. Something big. Giulia knew that as well and sighed to herself, running a hand down her face.

"Get it  _together,_ Wunderlich," she muttered to herself.

The microwave beeped yet again.

* * *

Gob didn’t know what was going on with his sister, but he knew it wasn’t good. It was never a good sign when Lindsay stayed home from school.

No, Lindsay didn’t particularly like school or anything, of course, but she was more likely to go and then ditch versus just staying home all day. And over the past school year, she seemed even more adamant to go to school every day since she had art. And she had Tony.

So, when he woke up earlier than usual (10:30) and found her half heartedly eating something Rosa had made her, he raised his eyebrows. “Woah. You don’t look so good.”

 _“Thanks,”_ Lindsay said sarcastically. 

Gob sat down next to her, not sure what else to do or say. He knew from the year before that Lindsay would only talk when she was good and ready. She could be really stubborn that way.

He also knew from a lifetime of experience that their mom would just make it worse. So when he heard the signature sound of her heels on the wood floors, Gob looked over at her and suggested, “Wanna get out of here?”

“Where to?”

Gob shrugged. “We can just drive.” He offered her a smile and said, “We never go on rides anymore.”

* * *

Tony was both relieved and disappointed to find out that his mom had already left for work by the time he got up for school.

Of course, that disappointment didn't even compare to how upset he was when Lindsay didn't show up for homeroom.

Or the agitation that grew when Sally approached him at his locker.

"Sally, I really don't want to talk right now—"

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Sally said quickly. "I didn't mean to cause any problems with you and Lindsay. I'm sorry—"

Tony slammed his locker shut. "Sally, just leave me alone."

He turned down the hallway, but he heard Sally follow him. "Tony, can you  _please_ just listen to me? I think you might understand what's going on in a way no one else can. I think you'll get why I did that—"

"Really? Because I don't think I will," Tony said, turning towards her suddenly. "All I know is that my whole life I've been an outcast, and I knew from the minute I moved to this _stupid_ town I'd be an even bigger outcast. Then, in the one moment of good luck I've had my  _whole_ life, I met another outcast who I could really be friends with and not have to feel completely alone. And then you came along and screwed the whole thing up!"

Sally's eyes narrowed. "You don't  _own_ teenage angst, Tony Wunderlich. You aren't the only one with problems and you aren't the only one who's felt like an outcast. Trust me; I've felt just as alone as you have."

"Right. Because you're an only child of a single parent," Tony said, feeling his anger mounting again. "That's why you have to fill up every moment of your day with some activity or homework assignment so you don't have to sit alone with your thoughts and feelings, because not only do you chase your only  _real_ friends away, but you don't even want to be friends with  _yourself."_

The look on her face told him he had hit a nerve. And he did feel kind of bad about it, even if the angry part of him felt a sense of satisfaction. He watched as Sally took a few deep breaths, collecting herself. Finally, she quietly and fiercely whispered, "Don't you _ever_ fucking pretend like you know who I am. _Ever."_ She glared at him for a few more moments before adding, "Fuck you." With that, she turned and walked in the opposite direction of him.

Tony watched her go and realized that he was at a fucking breaking point. 

And he also realized he was surrounded by a crowd of students who had watched the whole thing.

Well, there was that attention he wanted, apparently. 

Maybe he could get some more of it while he was on a roll.

* * *

Lindsay remained silent throughout most of the ride, only speaking when Gob spoke to her. Eventually, after driving around for way too long, Gob drove them to the pier. The Fun Zone always cheered her up, so he figured it was worth a shot.

But, seeing as the last time she was there was with Tony when they were first becoming friends, it didn’t help as much that time.

So, Lindsay suggested they get some drinks and sit down on the beach. Soon enough, she had a can of some energy drink in her hand and sand between her toes. Gob was next to her in a similar state, both of them looking out at the water.

Through sips of her drink, Lindsay told Gob the whole story. He, surprisingly, managed to stay silent the whole time.

“And I just…I’m so _angry._ At Sally _and_ at him.” She shook her head, a grim expression on her face as she looked at the can in her hands. “I just can’t believe he kissed her.”

Now, Gob could be very mature and wise when it came to his sister. It was strange perhaps, but true. He was good at putting aside his impulsive reactions when he needed to, or he had proven to be able to do that every now and then when it concerned Lindsay.

But, any possible maturity he had aside, Gob couldn’t stop himself from replying in shock, “Tony’s _straight?!”_  

He was very confused, given the whole crush thing. And, admittedly, he felt a bit betrayed. He had thought his sister’s cool friend had feelings for him, and it was all some lie?? Did they know he was awake at the flea market and just wanted to mess with him? What the fuck?!

“What? No, he’s bi—did you think he was gay?” Lindsay asked.

Gob froze as he tried to think or something convincing to say that didn’t reveal that he totally knew about the major crush her best friend had on him. It seemed like a weird thing for him to admit knowing now that it had been months. “Uh…” After another moment he said, “You know, I just…had a feeling.” Lindsay looked at him suspiciously, and he panicked. “I mean…you know, he said he wasn’t dating you and wasn’t interested in you, and the only guys I know who’d hang out with a girl they aren’t interested in are gay. Right?”

Lindsay looked at him for a moment longer as Gob busied himself with having a drink. That was some damn good gaydar from a total closet case, huh? But, whatever, that wasn’t the point of the conversation.

“Well, yeah, he likes guys _and_ girls. And apparently two-faced gremlins.”

Gob let out a small snort at that. How could Tony like _Sally_ if he liked _him?_ He was, like, the exact opposite of Sally in every way.

“And I just can’t believe he let that happen.”

Not just, like, genital-wise, either. But Sally was smart and ambitious and, like, nerdy and shit. Not like _him._

“He had told me he wasn’t interested in her that way, like, that same freaking _day._ Then he goes and _kisses_ her!”

Maybe he didn’t like him like that anymore? That kinda sucked, but it was probably for the best, right?

Lindsay’s hand lightly crushed the can she was holding ever so slightly, the noise enough to snap Gob out of his own thoughts. “I just…I could barely even talk to Michael when he kept talking to her,” Lindsay whispered. “And now she’s taking _him,_ too.”

Right. Okay. This was about Lindsay, not about him or how Tony felt about him or whatever. Gob nodded to himself and looked over at her. There was some look on her face that made him pause. He didn’t know how to describe it, but he knew the question he had to ask next.

“Linds?” Lindsay looked over at him and he asked, “Are you into Tony?”

_“What?”_

“Do you wanna fuck him or something?” Gob asked bluntly. Lindsay opened her mouth and he said, “Just how you’re talking, it’s like you want to—”

“I’m not into Tony like that!” Lindsay protested, looking scandalized and disgusted at the idea. “He’s _so_ not my type, are you _kidding?_ Ugh!” 

“Okay, okay! I just figured it was worth asking.”

“Ugh. God. I’m not into him like that. I _know_ that for _sure,”_ Lindsay said, shaking her head. “I think I’m allowed to be mad that he befriended her and then kissed her back as soon as she put her lips on his.”

Gob raised an eyebrow. “Wait. She kissed _him?”_

“Yeah. And he kissed her back,” Lindsay replied, her hand crushing her can even more.

Gob shook his head. Well, _that_ changed things. Including, possibly, Tony’s feelings about Sally. And about him.

“You want my honest opinion?” Gob asked.

“Of course.”

“I think you’re overreacting.” Lindsay shot him a glare, but Gob shrugged and said, “You can’t blame him for kissing her back. It’s, like, instinct.” Lindsay was about to protest, but Gob continued, “And she’s hot. So you _really_ can’t blame him.”

 _“What?”_ Lindsay scoffed. “She is _so_ not hot.”

“She is,” Gob said simply.

“She’s not—”

“Come on, she is! I know you think she is.”

Lindsay’s eyes narrowed and she harshly told him, “I don’t think gay guys get to decide if girls are hot or not.”

Well. Talk about an honest opinion.

Lindsay let out a small breath a second later after she realized what she had said. The one thing that remained unspoken between the two of them—the one thing about his life Gob still hadn’t dared to say out loud, even if he had been thinking about it so much since that jail thing. 

Daring a look at him, Lindsay held back a wince. Gob was staring at the sand in front of him, looking both hurt and angry as he clenched his jaw slightly. At that moment, Lindsay was so sure her brother was going to hate her forever. 

“Gob, I—”

“Whether she’s hot or not, I don’t think you can blame Tony,” Gob said, purposefully ignoring what his sister had just said as he looked back at her. This wasn’t about his sexuality—thank _god,_ because he still wasn’t ready to say it. “And she _is_ good looking.”

Lindsay looked at her brother for a long moment, partly to make sure he truly wasn’t angry and partly to process what he said. Finally, she looked back to the ocean and nodded. “…She’s beautiful,” Lindsay admitted quietly. “I just don’t know if you can say someone so uptight is really _hot._ Can you?”

Gob shrugged. “I’ve always thought the uptight thing was kinda hot when done right.”

Normally that would make Lindsay grin and she’d remember to tell Tony that. But that time she just nodded. She kinda saw where he was coming from. She could imagine unwinding someone like that could be hot.

“Besides, when you’re Tony’s age, turning down a make-out from _anyone_ is, like, impossible. Hot or otherwise.” He laughed and added, “Hell, turning down his sister was hard and I’m older and more mature than him.”

“…You’re definitely _older_ than him,” Lindsay said. “More mature is definitely debatable.” 

Gob was about to scoff and yell at her because he was _totally_ fucking mature, but then he noticed how she was smiling a bit. And he really liked the idea of her smiling versus, you know, being all upset like she had been all day. So, fine, he’d let it rest.

“Maybe you’re right,” Gob said.

Lindsay sighed and ran her hands over her face. “I just wish I didn’t feel like this. Like I’m going to throw up or something.” She shook her head and then ran her hands through her hair, trying to make herself think. “I think you’re kinda right. Like, it’s not _his_ fault, I guess. I just…why do I feel like this?”

“Like you wanna throw up?” Gob asked. Lindsay nodded. He shrugged and asked, “Isn’t that why you see that shrink?”

Lindsay glared at him until she saw the hint of a smile on his lips. That was actually kind of a clever joke. 

Well, for him.

“Idiot,” she said affectionately. Before Gob could get upset at her own teasing response, she looked back at the ocean yet again. “It’s beautiful today, isn’t it?”

Gob nodded and looked at the ocean as well. “Hey, after next week, we can do this sort of thing every day again,” Gob pointed out. “Go to the beach and talk and everything…Tony can come, too, once you get through all of this  stuff. That’ll be fun, right?”

He looked at Lindsay, but felt his stomach seize up at the look on her face.

“…Gob, I have to tell you something.”

* * *

Marianne, Giulia's assistant, was looking particularly worse for the wear when she knocked on Giulia’s door.

To be fair, Giulia didn’t look much better as she rummaged through files, a few pieces of hair falling out of her bun.

“Why can’t I find _anything_ around here? Are people _trying_ to drive me crazy?”

“Giulia?” Marianne asked timidly.

“What _is_ it?” Giulia asked, turning around with a furious energy. “I _told_ you not to interrupt me.”

Marianne stepped to the side and Giulia blinked, her face turning from one of anger to one of sympathy as she saw Tony, who _also_ looking worse for the wear. It wasn't like the look of anger he had last night, either, but a clearly upset look. She hadn’t seen him look so bad since her father, his namesake who made it no secret that he favored him over the rest of his children, had died a few years ago.

“Tony?” 

He immediately said, “I’m sorry I skipped school. And that I yelled yesterday. I just—I wanted to…to talk to you.” He quietly added, “I _needed_ to talk to _you.”_

Giulia’s stomach dropped at seeing her son look so miserable, even as her heart leapt in her chest at the thought that he had sought _her_ out specifically, even with what had happened the night before. She was always there to offer advice, but she couldn’t remember the last time he specifically _found_ her for it instead of her just offering it when _she_ found him.

Giulia gave Marianne a nod of her head in dismissal and the woman dutifully left the two of them alone. Tony looked down at his feet, unsure of what to say, and Giulia waited patiently for him to speak, all deadlines she had completely forgotten.

…Well, _partially_ forgotten. She still knew she had things to do, but she knew pushing her son to talk wasn’t the right thing to do, not Tony of all people. Not when he looked like that. But she wasn’t sure her office was the best place for them to talk about anything that was making him look so miserable.

So Giulia suggested, “Do you want to get something to eat?” 

Tony looked back up at her and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Of course, once they got to the restaurant, Tony didn’t seem to be in the mood to eat. And he didn’t eat much at first anyways, not when getting away from his mom’s office seemed to make it easier for him to talk about everything that was going on.

Giulia, for her part, listened without commentary—something that took a _lot_ of restraint, thank you very much—and nodded along as Tony explained everything that happened with Sally.

“…So, I kissed my best friend’s worst enemy and I don’t know what’s going on and I have no one to talk to, so that’s why I came to you.”

“Oh…” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Tony said.

“Oh,” she replied, feeling a bit better. After a moment, she said, “Well, being a teenager isn’t easy, Tony. You have all these new _feelings_ and—”

“Ma, I don’t need a puberty talk right now. I kissed Sally Sitwell after promising Lindsay I wouldn’t even _befriend_ her.”

Giulia sighed. “It’s a lousy situation, Tony,” she said honestly, “but you didn’t set out to hurt anyone.”

“I don’t know how I could’ve hurt Lindsay more,” Tony said.

“What about Sally?”

Tony looked up at her with slightly narrowed eyes. “What _about_ Sally?”

“Do you like her? As more than a friend?” 

“No!” 

“Are you sure?”

He groaned after a moment and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. It was something he had been wondering for a while himself, ever since he decided to keep that picture of her. He had wondered if it was just because it was a good picture. He wondered if it was just because he didn’t want it to end up in the yearbook and lead to Angela teasing him about liking her. He had wondered if it had any deeper meaning.

God, he _hated_ wondering.

“I thought maybe I did,” Tony finally answered, his head still ducked with his hands in his hair. “But then I started to think about it. Like, _really_ think about it.” He moved his hands to the back of his neck and gently kneaded at the knots of tension in his shoulders, still not looking at his mom. Talking about crushes and stuff was still not something he particularly _wanted_ to talk about with her, but she was the best person to talk to in this situation. 

“She’s pretty,” Tony admitted. “And she’s funny and interesting. And we get along. But even if she wasn’t Lindsay’s enemy, I…there’s not really any spark there. Kiss or not.” It was a good kiss, something he wouldn’t admit out loud to his mom, but, even with his lack of kissing experiences, he knew it wasn’t something _real._ Or he at least assumed that based on what he had read in books and seen in movies and in everything Angela ever told him about her better dates. 

Plus, any feelings he had about Sally were overshadowed by one specific person he _definitely_ had feelings for. He knew what a crush was, since he was neck-deep in one, head-over-heels for someone, and his feelings for Sally were not even close to that.

“…I think I saved the picture I took of her because…because of why I saved Lindsay’s,” Tony finally said, thinking through and processing it out loud. “It was a good picture on my part. It was a genuine smile. It was candid. It was a side a lot of people don’t get to see of either of them.” After another moment, he added, “And both were in reaction to Lindsay’s artwork. So it was pretty cool to see that comparison…and maybe I liked the idea that Sally still cared about Lindsay. I liked having that candid proof.”

Tony moved his hands off his neck and stood up straighter. Still not looking at his mom, he admitted, “I know I don’t feel like that about her because…because there _is_ someone I like that way. I know I don’t have a chance with him—” Tony cut himself off as he realized that, after what happened, he _definitely_ didn’t have a chance. Not being friends with Lindsay would also ruin even the _friendship_ he had with Gob, let alone any chance of an actual relationship. And he wrote all those song lyrics already.

Fuck.

Giulia looked at her son with concern, still thinking through the whole situation. After a long moment, she asked, "What about Lindsay? Do you think she likes you that way?"

"No way," Tony said immediately. 

"Are you sure? It would explain why she's so upset."

Tony shook his head. "She's upset because it's Sally. She thinks everyone prefers her and that I'd rather spend time with her…but she doesn't like me that way, ma. I know that for sure." He sighed and said, "You know, I had everything more or less under control. I'm not saying it was great, but I could deal with school, I could deal with home, and now  _nothing's_ under control."

Giulia put a hand on his. "It never is, Tony. We just tell ourselves it is so we can function."

"That's a shitty arrangement."

"That's life, for you."

"Yeah…and it sucks."

"Sometimes." After a moment, she sighed and corrected herself, "Often."

Tony snorted. "That's reassuring."

"Well, it beats the alternative," Giulia said. She squeezed her son's hand and said, "Things are going to work out, okay? You and Lindsay will get past this and be stronger friends for it."

"How?"

"I don't know how, but I know you will."

"What kind of parental wisdom is that?"

Giulia tilted her head and looked at him kindly. "Honest?" She smiled slightly and told him, "You're a smart boy—and a sensitive one, more than you let on. And Lindsay's the same. You both just need some space to cool off before you say something that can hurt her more than you already have and vice versa. Not everyone can handle your angry streak."

She gave him a pointed look and Tony squirmed. "Sorry, ma," he said genuinely, looking down at his plate.

After she gave his hand another squeeze, he looked up at her. "It's fine, honey. You know I have dealt with much worse from nearly every other one of your siblings." She gave him a wry smile and said, "Sorry that I took that for granted—and that I thought your problems could wait."

"…Thanks." Tony smiled slightly back after a moment. "But, to be fair, I guess pizza is always a bit more important than anything else out there."

Giulia shook her head with a grin. "Only if it's New York pizza."

Tony smiled in agreement. At least his mom remembered that.

* * *

Lindsay spent most of Saturday studying for her finals. Of course, math was still the thing screwing her up and it made her wish Tony was there to help. He knew math better than she did.

And _that_ thought made her stop studying for the rest of the day.

On Sunday, Lindsay went for her usual morning run and then decided to focus on her art. It was a way to at least take some of her rage and pain and be productive about it. After some time listening to the radio, she shuffled through some CDs and pulled out her favorite album: No Doubt’s _Tragic Kingdom._ It was several years old at that point—like, nearly five years old—so it had been played through a _lot_ of Lindsay’s biggest crises. There was, of course, the whole summer before until Gob pulled her out of the house, but there were other times it proved to be useful, since it seemed like there was at least one song for every problem she had. Like when she was going through growth spurts before all of her classmates—Gwen sang about the trials of being ["Sixteen".](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeIXr8VeXkQ) Or when she was dealing with a clingy boy or two, she could easily blast ["Spiderwebs"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBVEie8bNdE). or when she recognized how much dumb pressure her mom put on her to be pretty and docile and, as Gwen would put it, [“Just a Girl”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHzOOQfhPFg).

That one got played a  _lot_.

Man, she hoped No Doubt put out a new album soon. She missed them.

Anyway, she put on the CD and grabbed her paint. Since she was doing that independent study with Ms. Defoe on abstract art, she started flinging paint at the canvas as she let herself enjoy Gwen Stefani’s vocal stylings. It felt exactly like what the doctor ordered. She lightly sang along to certain parts as she let her emotions express themselves through the dark, deep reds and blues and purples landing on the canvas. She didn’t even notice how some of it got on her clothes or hands or skin or hair. She never noticed when she got into the zone.

Lindsay got so into the zone that she barely even realized how far into the CD she had gotten. She finally stopped to look over her work, taking her canvas into her hands, but suddenly her eyes darted over to her stereo as the next song started up. She swore she had _just_ been listening to “Just A Girl”—how the hell was [“Sunday Morning”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypRuGHbCFHE) already starting?

“Sunday Morning” was one of Lindsay’s favorite songs ever, No Doubt or otherwise. She loved it. She loved the ska infusion, she loved the drumbeat, and, god, those _lyrics._ That had been her Sally Sitwell Situation Song. It had seemed so perfect for everything that had happened; Gob had even put it on a mix he’d play when they’d go on rides, even though he hated Gwen’s voice. He just knew how much it meant to her. It was the perfect mix of being in pain from a betrayal and also telling that person to fuck off.

 _Sappy pathetic little me_ _  
__That was the girl I used to be_ _  
__You had me on my knees_ _  
__I’d trade you places any day_ _  
__I’d never thought you could be that way_ _  
__But you looked like me on Sunday_

Lindsay blinked a few times, processing the lyrics in a light that was way too similar to everything she had felt last summer. She never thought Sally could be that way.

She didn’t think Tony could be that way, either.

 _Oh, you came in with the breeze on Sunday morning_ _  
__You sure have changed since yesterday without any warning_ _  
__I thought I knew you, I thought I knew you_ _  
__I thought I knew you well…so well…_

Lindsay’s grip on her painting tightened. Suddenly she hated the work in her hands.

 _You’re trying my shoes on for a change_ _  
__They look so good but fit so strange_ _  
__Out of fashion so I can complain!_

As Gwen sang through the chorus again, Lindsay shook her head. Sally and her freaking _Single White Female_ tendencies. Sally and her ways of completely changing her life. Sally and her actions leading Lindsay to spend a weekend alone wallowing over everything she lost. 

Lindsay threw the painting onto the ground, suddenly so angry yet again. She loved her art, she loved doing that art, but she hated that Sally was part of why she had turned to it.

 _I know who I am but who are you?_ _  
__You’re not looking like you used to_ _  
__You’re on the other side of the mirror_ _  
__So nothing’s looking quite as clear_

Lindsay didn’t want to make art associated with Sally. She didn’t want some good painting of hers to be caused by Sally, even if that painting really _was_ good in her opinion.

Without even thinking, Lindsay stomped in time with Gwen’s voice declaring _“Thank you!”_ She repeated the action as Gwen sang those words again.

 _Thank you! For turning on the light_ _  
__Thank you! Now you’re the parasite_ _  
__I didn’t think you had it in you_ _  
__And now you’re looking like I used to!_

Lindsay ran her hands through her hair as she stepped off the painting, turning herself away from it and willing herself not to look down at it again. She regretted letting her anger possibly destroy yet another work, like how she had thrown away that bulimia poster.

 _You came in with the breeze on Sunday morning_ _  
__You sure have changed since yesterday without any warning_ _  
__And you want me badly_ _  
__‘Cause you cannot have me!_

Lindsay raised an eyebrow. She never caught those lyrics before. Weird. 

 _I thought I knew you_ _  
__But I got a new view_ _  
__I thought I knew you well_ _  
__Oh well!_

Maybe the song wasn’t a perfect fit, but she had definitely just found herself feeling a lot through the near five minutes it had played. She should’ve known playing the album was a mistake after all the rage it had accompanied her for all those years.

She definitely realized it was a mistake as her stereo started to play the familiar intro to [“Don’t Speak.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7uiJcxIsK4)

 _You and me, we used to be together_ _  
__Everyday together always_ _  
__I really feel that I’m losing my best friend_ _  
__I can’t believe this could be the end…_

Lindsay finally dared a look over her shoulder at the piece now laying on the floor. She took in a sharp intake of air as she saw the damage she had done.

…It actually looked pretty cool. Full of pain. Real. _Raw._

Fuck. 

Lindsay sat down on her bed and put her head in her hands. Even when Sally was completely ruining her life—telling people about her nose job, stealing her social status, stealing her _best_ and _only_ friend—she managed to cause her to make great art.

And, yes, when she stole that social status from her, she actually gave Lindsay the greatest gift she could have. She was free to do what she wanted to do, dress how she wanted to dress, and talk to people she wanted to talk to. She could experiment with her looks and her style and even her demeanor. She could do anything she wanted.

Sally weirdly _had_ helped her. Until what she did this past week.

 _…You and me, I can see us dying_ _  
__Are we?_

Lindsay looked back up. She had spent so long thinking about those words in regards to her and Sally, how their friendship was dead and over. And, yeah, maybe it was. But her friendship with Tony didn’t have to end, did it?

Gwen was pleading with someone as she sang, pleading for their relationship to not end. But Lindsay didn’t have to plead. She had control over this relationship. She could stop this all from ending.

 _…I know you’re good, I know you’re good_ _  
__I know you’re real good, oh…_

Tony _was_ good. Tony had told her right away. Tony hadn’t wanted to hurt her, and he had hurt himself just so she could know the truth instead of hiding it away.

Lindsay nodded to herself as she stood up. She needed to talk to him and let him know this wasn’t over, not yet.

…But what was she going to say? What was the next step?

_[ Since you’ve been gone ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ALXtruVW4Fg)  
Since you’ve been unglued  
It’s hard to figure out  
Your next move _

Okay, clearly Lindsay just needed to sit down for a moment and finish listening to _Tragic Kingdom._ At this rate, it was going to tell her explicitly what she was going to say to Tony.

* * *

Tony was used to being alone. He was normally seen as weird and he just naturally became a loner. And he never minded it, really. He liked reading by himself or writing. Taking pictures was always fun, too. There were many ways to amuse himself. Even with Lindsay, he liked having time alone every now and then; Tony was an introvert at heart.

But suddenly not having Lindsay around at all was making him miserable. As introverted as he was, he kind of liked just chilling out with her in silence. He missed watching awful television with her and talking with her and hanging out in her room while she worked on some art project and he read. He missed her semi-dangerous driving and how she’d laugh at her own jokes as well as his.

It had only been a few days and he was already as upset as he was at having to move to this dumb town in the first place.

And he was actually lonely enough that, instead of brooding in his room, he worked on studying for his finals in the living room. It was almost the right amount of distraction that Lindsay provided with Lizzie muttering geometry proofs to herself and Angela flipping back and forth between her anatomy textbook as she quizzed herself on muscle structures, occasionally whispering out a _“yes!”_ or groaning when she got one wrong.

When the doorbell rang, Pip—extremely bored of the silent reading she and Mike were forced to do while their older siblings studied—jumped up and declared, “I’ll get it!”

She bounded over to the door and Giulia ran after her a second later, since she wasn’t going to let her youngest answer the door alone.

“Lindsay! Hi, Lindsay! Hi!” Pip said excitedly when she opened the door. But then she realized how sad and tired Lindsay looked and she frowned. She looked like Tony had been looking all weekend.

As soon as Tony had heard Pip’s greeting, he felt his eyes widen and his heart drop down in his chest. He didn’t know how to feel about Lindsay just showing up out of nowhere. He wanted to believe it was a good thing, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up. This was a soda cup half-empty situation.

“Lindsay,” Giulia said calmly, though her eyes were full of worry. “Come in.”

“Thanks, Giulia,” Lindsay said politely, following her in. “I’m sorry to come over unannounced, I just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Giulia said kindly. She hesitated before placing a hand on her shoulder, “Do you want to stay for dinner? We have some pizza on its way—”

“No, but thank you,” Lindsay said as they continued to the living room. “I was just hoping to speak to Tony.”

Tony stood up and turned to Lindsay as they came into the living room. They made eye contact and there was immediate tension in the air—or it felt like that to the two of them, at least. Angela and Lizzie were too busy studying to notice anything, Tony’s dad was still looking over the newspaper with interest, and if Mike felt anything, it wasn’t like he’d _say_ anything. 

Pip probably felt something, but even _she_ knew talking wasn’t the right thing to do.

“Hey,” Tony finally said.

“Hey,” Lindsay replied.

After a beat, Tony said, “Wanna head to my room?”

Lindsay nodded. Somewhere private was good. Tony nodded back and grabbed his books from the coffee table. It felt weird to leave them down there. 

“Door open!” Dan called out from behind his newspaper as Tony and Lindsay hit the steps, more on instinct than anything.

Lindsay actually held back a small laugh on that while Tony groaned. He looked to his mother and urged her with a pleading, _“Ma?”_

“They can close the door for some privacy, Dan,” Giulia said, giving Tony a small nod. 

Dan gave her a confused look and opened his mouth to speak, only for Angela to comment, without looking up from her book, “It’s not like they’ll do anything, dad; come _on.”_

“Right. Can you imagine Tony making out with anyone _ever?”_ Lizzie asked with a snort. Angela let out a small laugh, still not looking up from her textbook as Tony looked down guiltily at his feet and Lindsay raised her eyebrows as her lips pursed.

Was it weird that Tony hadn’t seemed to tell Angela yet?

“Bye,” Tony told the rest of his family to dismiss the conversation. He continued on up the stairs and Lindsay followed him. She closed the door to his room once they were in there. 

“…I think we landed on door closing privileges,” Lindsay said, though she wasn’t quite sure.

“Yeah. Ma’s rules are the ones that matter at home,” Tony said with a nod.

“Right.”

The two looked at each other for a moment and then Lindsay looked away. She moved and sat down on Tony’s bed and Tony, after a moment of hesitation, sat down on the floor in order to face her. He was a younger child, so he was used to being forced to sit on the floor every now and then, so it wasn’t a big deal. And he figured they should talk face-to-face for now.

“…I wanted you to know, I got into this art colony for the summer,” Lindsay finally said.

“Oh.” That wasn’t how he expected this conversation to start. He slowly asked, “How long are you there?”

“Most of the summer,” she said. “I leave next weekend and I get back mid-August.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They both looked at each other for a while. Lindsay broke the silence by saying, “Ms. Defoe convinced me to apply after she saw my work at the spring dance, since they have this summer program and…and I was sure I wouldn’t get in, so I didn't tell, like, anyone. They’re all, like, college age or older, and then there’s me…So, it’s really cool that I even got in.”

“Congrats. You really deserve it,” Tony said genuinely. Or, well, as genuinely as he could given his surprise and mood. 

“It’s a really cool program, too. There’s an artist in residence who gives master classes and I get to just sculpt and paint my heart out in a college town in the middle of nowhere.”

“…Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Lindsay looked down at her lap. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. You know, giving up my summer, it sounded…it sounded kinda awful. But I really wanted to give it a try and then I was trying to tell you, but you kept talking about how we’d spend summer together and I felt bad and…I don’t know. But now…now I know I need to go. I don't want to be caged up like a tiger at the zoo, you know? I need some space.”

“Why?”

Lindsay looked back up at him, an eyebrow raised, “Why do you think?”

Yeah, that was a stupid question. 

“I’m sorry, Lindsay,” Tony said. “I really am. But I promise I’m not going to date her or anything. I don’t want to. She kissed _me,_ I swear. And being friends is one thing, but I’d never…I’d _never_ date her.”

They fell silent again, Lindsay looking down at her lap again. She looked kind of on edge, like a deer or something, and he was afraid if he started talking first, she’d bolt.

After a few moments, she looked at him and said, “I’m really confused.” She paused. Something about her pause made it clear that she was going to say more, so Tony remained silent. “…The thing is, I don’t know _why_ I’m angry at you.” She took a deep breath and said, “I know that you didn’t kiss her and I know that you wouldn’t…you wouldn’t date her. I know that. But…but every time I think about it, I just feel _sick._ And _angry._ Like, really, _really_ angry. And I’m angry at _you,_ not just her. And I don’t know _why.”_

Tony wasn’t sure what to say, so he eventually settled on, “I’m really sorry, Linds.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “…I don’t know, maybe I’m just angry that you got yourself in a situation where that could happen.”

After another silence, she said, “It just really sucks, Tony. Because…because she _was_ my best friend. Yeah, we competed against each other for things, but she was still my best friend. And then we started drifting away and…and I felt really alone. Everyone saw my life and thought it was perfect and great and everything, but it wasn’t. I hated myself and my body and I didn’t feel like I could talk to anyone. I thought I was friends with the other cheerleaders, but I knew I wasn’t as close to them at all. Even if I could’ve talked to them, it wasn’t like they could understand the pressures I felt the way Sally did.”

Lindsay blinked rapidly as she continued, “Then she…she betrayed me completely. And I really thought my life was ruined. I was going to try to get it all back, even though I didn’t necessarily want it, you know? I didn’t want to be involved with all these things anymore. And…and then you came along.” She looked over at Tony and said, “And I realized I didn’t _have_ to go back. Because we connected right away.”

“We did,” Tony agreed, unable to stop himself.

“Yeah,” Lindsay said quietly, a sad smile on her face. She paused again before shaking her head, the upset look back. “And then she just…she tried to take you. And she took art classes and talked to you about _Goya_ of all things and I…It’s just like I can’t have anything. Like, what’s next?”

Tony found himself saying, “I mean, there’s no way she could befriend Gob; he’d drive her crazy.” Despite herself, Lindsay let out a small breath of laughter. “And you know your parents won’t take her in, and even if they did, your mom would be just as awful to her as she is to you.” Lindsay hesitated, but nodded. “And, trust me, she is not going to win any awards for her artwork. Ever.”

He tried to smile at her as he said, “And she’s not taking me away from you.”

Lindsay nodded again. “I know.” She rolled her eyes at herself and said, “And that’s why I don’t get why I’m upset with you.” She looked off in thought and said, “I know that I’m not, like, jealous of her or something. I’m not interested in you like that. But…”

Tony sighed. “I think this is just a weak spot for you, so it’s gonna hurt no matter what.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” She looked back at him and said, “I think some time away from home and her and…and even you, will help me get over this.”

That did kind of hurt, but he nodded. “Whatever you need,” he said. “…So, can I write to you? Call you? Visit?”

“I don’t know,” she said. She smiled a little, looking like her usual self, as she said, “Would you even have anything to tell me about without me here?”

Tony was caught off guard by the teasing enough to laugh instead of just rolling his eyes. “I guess you have a point.” 

She thought about it for a moment and said, “I’ll make sure you have my phone number and everything. But…I really _do_ want some space. I think it’s time for me to just be _Lindsay._ No Gob. No Tony. Just for now. I’m…going off the grid.”

Tony _really_ didn’t like the sound of that, but he figured it was for the best. 

After a moment, he said, “Well, HAGS, I guess.”

Lindsay gave him a small half-smile. “HAGS to you, too. Or HATS if you prefer.”

"I'm not really a fan of how I look in hats."

"That's fair. Your hair is actually pretty great."

"Takes one to know one." After a moment, he added, "I'm sure Ange would touch up your hair before you leave if you asked. If you want."

"I'll think about it."

The two of them exchanged small smiles at each other before Lindsay excused herself to go back home. Tony walked her back to the door and watched her drive away before going back inside. He wasn’t the optimistic kind, but he did feel  _some_ hope that things would be better once she got back. Like his glass was half-empty now, but there would be a soda refill of some sort. Right?

Well, regardless, it still meant his summer was gonna be a long one.

But it would still beat doing Camp Grizzly again.

…Well, _hopefully._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I hope that didn't seem too over-blown drama wise? I think things will make sense soon—if they don't already (because I'm not too subtle). But, anyways, this is all a little weird fic-wise, because it's still based on Daria but this is where things really start to take a sharp turn from the Daria canon—mostly because it just has to in order to make the pairing really work. And, FYI, I'm not sure how many chapters are left for sure, but I think we're about half-way through? I'm still debating some possible buffer chapters for big plot points.
> 
> But, heads up, the next two chapters are basically covering _Is It Fall Yet?_ , the movie that takes place between seasons four and five of _Daria_. I plan on the next chapter being primarily about Tony's summer—which is not gonna be close to Daria's canon at all lmao—and the one after that will be primarily around Lindsay's. Of course, a la the movie, (SPOILERS) they will meet up at one point. 
> 
> And, yes, there will be plenty of Blunder as well since this is still a Blunder fic, don't worry! And, because I can't resist, there will be bits of Michael, too.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this piece of drama and teenagers being teenagers! I promise the next chapters should be a lot more enjoyable! <3


End file.
